LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


is  is  one  of  a  special,  limited 
edition  of  ©fie  tyool  prepared 
by  <&XCr.  Tollock  for  his  friends. 


THE   FOOL 

A  PLAT  IN  FOUR  ACTS 


THE   FOOL 

A  PLAY  IN  FOUR  ACTS 


BY 

CHANNING  POLLOCK 


"They  called  me  in  the  public  squares 
The  fool  that  wears  a  crown  of  thorn*.' 


PUBLISHERS 

BRENTANO'S   :  :  :  NEW  YORK 
BRENTANO'S  LTD.  :  :  LONDON 


LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


COPYRIGHT, 
CHANNING  POLLOCK 

All  rights  reserved 


First  printing December,  19%Z 

Second  printing January,  I960 

Third  printing February,  1923 

Fourth  printing March,  192 J 


PRINTED   IN   THE    UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


The  cast  of  "THE   FOOL"   as   originally  presented  by 

Selwyn  &  Company,  at  the  TIMES  SQUARE  THEATRE, 

New  York,  October  23,  1922 


THE    FOOL 

PRODUCED    BY    FRANK    REICHER 

Scenic  Production  and  Decorations  by 
CLIFFORD  B.  PEMBER 


THE    PERSONS 

(In  the  order  in  which  they  speak) 

Mrs.  Henry  Gilliam MAUDE  TRUAX  ' 

"Dilly"  Gilliam REA  MARTIN 

Mr*.  Thornbury EDITH  SHAYNE 

Mr.  Barnaby GEORGE  WRIGHT 

Mrs.  Tice LILLIAN  KEMBLE  •' 

"Jerry"  Go&dkind LOWELL  SHERMAN 

Rev.  Everett  Wadham ARTHUR  ELLIOT 

Clare  Jewett PAMELA  GAYTHORNE 

George  F.  Goodkind HENRY  STEPHENSON^ 

"Charlie"  Benfield ROBERT  CUMMINGS 

Daniel  Gilchrist JAMES  KIRKWOOD 

A  Poor  Man FRANK  SYLVESTER  * 

A  Servant GEORGE  LE  SOIR 

Max  Stedtman GEOFFREY  STEIN  ^ 

Joe  Hennig ROLLO  LLOYD  • 

Umanski /. FREDRIK  VOGEDING   - 

"Grubby" ARTHUR  ELLIOTT 

Mack FRANK  SYLVESTER 

Mary  Margaret / SARA  SOTHERN  ^ 

Pearl  Hennig ADRIENNE  MORRISON 

Miss  Levinson WANDA  LAURENCE 

And  a  Number  of  Persons  of  Minor  Importance 


The  cast  of  "THE   FOOL"  as  presented  by  Selwyn  & 

Company,    at    the    SELWYN    THEATRE, 

Boston,  Mass. 


THE    PERSONS 

(In  the  order  in  which  they  speak) 

Mrs.  Henry  Gilliam MRS.  STUART  ROBSON 

"Dilly"  Gilliam MARY  MEAD 

Mr*.  Thornbury HELEN  HOLCOMB 

Mr.  Barnaby GEO.  W.  WILLIAMS 

Mr*.  Tice FRANCES  BRANDT 

"Jerry"  Goodkind A.  J.  HERBERT 

Rev.  Everett  Wadham CLARENCE  HANDYSIDES 

Clare  Jewett ALEXANDRA  CARLISLE 

George  F.  Goodkind OSCAR  FIGMAN 

"Charlie"  Benfield FRANKLYN  HANNA 

Daniel  Gilchrist CHARLES   MILLWARD 

A  Poor  Man BERTRAM  MARBURG 

A  Servant BRETTON  KENNEDY 

Max  Stedtman FRANK  CONLON 

Joe  Hennig HALE  NORCROSS 

Umanski DAVID  LEONARD 

"Grubby" CLARENCE    HANDYSIDES 

Mack BERTRAM  MARBURG 

Mary  Margaret ZILLA  INEZ  SHANNON 

Pearl  Hennig HILDA  VAUGHBJ 

Mi**  Levinson VIRGINIA  NORTON 

A  Girl  of  the  Streets EVE  KOHL 


Stage,  screen  and  amateur  rights  in  this  play  are  owned 
and  controlled  by  the  Author,  who  may  be  reached  care 
Selwyn  &  Company,  at  the  Selwyn  Theatre,  New  York. 
No  performances  or  public  readings  may  be  given  without 
his  written  consent. 


THE  PERSONS 

(In  the  order  in  which  they  speak) 
MRS.  HENRY  GILLIAM. 
"DILLY"  GILLIAM. 
MRS.  THORNBURY. 
MR.  BARNABY. 
MRS.  TICE. 
"JERRY"  GOODKIND. 
REV.  EVERETT  WADHAM. 
CLARE  JEWETT. 
GEORGE  F.  GOODKIND. 
"CHARLIE"  BENFIELD. 
DANIEL  GILCHRIST. 
A  POOR  MAN. 
A  SERVANT. 
MAX  STEDTMAN* 
JOE  HENNIG. 
UMANSKI. 
GRUBBY. 
MACK. 

MARY  MARGARET. 
PEARL  HENNIG. 
AND  A  NUMBER  OF  PERSONS  OF  MINOR  IMPORTANCE. 


THE  PLACES 

ACT  I. — The  Church  of  the  Nativity. 

Christmas  Eve,  1918. 
ACT  II.— The  Goodkmds9  Home. 

November,  1919. 
ACT  in.— "Overcoat  Hall.99 

October,  1920. 
ACT  IV. — Gilchrist9s  Room — "Upstairs.99 

Christmas  Eve,  1920. 

The  action  takes  place  in  New  York  City. 


INTRODUCTION 
BY  BASIL  KING 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  no  one  who  sees  The  Fool,  by 
Channing  Pollock,  will  ever  forget  that  he  has  seen  it. 
That  fact  in  itself  will  put  this  play  into  a  list  where  it 
will  have  no  more  than  a  score  or  two  of  American 
plays  as  its  companions.  Apart  from  all  questions  of 
art,  or  taste,  or  opinion,  or  preference,  is  this  test  of 
vitality.  The  dynamic  play  endures  in  memory  long 
after  it  has  left  the  stage.  It  continues  to  be  talked 
about;  it  helps  to  form  a  standard  of  comparison. 
When  it  comes  back,  as  not  infrequently  it  does,  it 
impresses  to  some  degree  a  second  and  a  third  genera 
tion  as  it  impressed  the  year  whose  activities  inspired  it. 

Energy  and  breadth  are  perhaps  the  qualities  which 
The  Fool  reveals  most  strikingly.  It  is  tense  with  life ; 
its  outlook  is  wide.  Dealing  with  nothing  trivial,  or 
merely  of  to-day,  it  is  vibrant  with  those  passions  and 
emotions  of  the  hour  which,  all  the  same,  are  timeless. 

Its  theme  is  the  biggest  that  can  occupy  the  mind, 
the  emergence  of  the  human  being  out  of  the  material 
into,  or  towards,  the  spiritual.  Exactly  what  this 
means  we  have  not  the  space  to  define,  but,  except  for 
the  most  sodden,  all  of  us  can  understand  it.  It  is  the 
business  which,  consciously  or  subconsciously,  we  are  all 
about.  Our  methods  may  be  diverse ;  our  aim  may  often 
become  deflected;  but  our  objective  is  the  same.  To 

11  ' 


12  INTRODUCTION 

struggle  to  something  higher  is  the  impulse  of  every 
human  being  ever  born. 

All  the  chief  characters  in  Mr.  Pollock's  play  are 
working  that  impulse  out.  The  conflict  springs  from 
their  understanding  of  what  the  higher  consists  in. 
Each  follows  his  or  her  own  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

The  point  to  be  noted  is  that  Gilchrist  is  the  only  one 
among  the  leading  characters  to  take  the  course  which 
every  one  else  considers  impractical,  and  yet  the  only 
one  to  work  out  a  success.  He  is  an  illustration  of  that 
paradox,  of  which  we  are  only  beginning  to  understand 
the  truth,  that  we  must  lose  the  world  to  find  it.  Ever 
since  1914  especially  we  have  been  confessing  with  our 
lips,  and  sometimes  in  our  hearts,  that  the  wisdom  of 
man  is  foolishness  with  God.  If  we  wanted  a  proof  of  it 
we  should  only  have  to  lift  our  eyes  and  look  at  the 
topsy-turvy  Europe,  Asia,  and  America  man's  wisdom 
is  creating.  That  wisdom  is  not  only  foolishness  to  God 
but  is  fast  becoming  mere  foolishness  to  ourselves ;  and 
yet  we  see  no  remedy.  The  methods  which  we  know  in 
advance  will  not  work,  which  have  proved  that  they  will 
not  work  a  hundred  thousand  times  in  human  experi 
ence,  are  the  only  methods  we  consider  "practical." 
They  have  been  the  ways  of  "practical  men"  in  govern 
ment,  business,  diplomacy,  religion,  society,  and  war, 
ever  since  the  beginning  of  time.  We  cannot  bring 
ourselves  to  forsake  them.  We  prefer  to  sink  with  the 
ills  we  know  rather  than  run  the  risks  we  inc.ur  when 
trying  to  walk  on  the  water. 


THE  FOOL 
ACT  I. 

SCENE  :  The  Churcn  of  the  Nativity.    New  York. 

The  set,  representing  only  the  chancel,  is  as  deep  as 
possible,  so  that,  even  when  its  foreground  is  brightly 
illuminated,  the  detail  back  of  that  is  lost  in  shadows. 
Pierced  by  three  fine  stained  glass  windows,  the  rear 
wall  looms  above  the  altar,  on  which  the  candles  are 
not  lighted.  In  front  of  that  is  the  sanctuary,  and,  in 
front  of  that,  the  communion  rail,  with  three  steps  to 
the  stage.  Just  right  of  these  steps  is  a  very  tall  and 
beautiful  Christmas  tree.  The  tree  has  been  expen 
sively  trimmed,  and  has  a  practical  connection  for  an 
electric-lighted  ornament  still  to  be  placed  at  its  top. 
Down  R.,  a  door  to  the  choir  room,  and,  down  L.,  a 
door  to  the  parish  house  and  the  street.  These  doors 
are  exactly  alike.  Down  L.,  two  folding  wooden  chairs 
that  have  been  brought  m  for  temporary  use.  A  tall 
stepladder  L.  of  the  tree,  facing  front.  Down  R.,  two 
wooden  boxes  of  ornaments,  that  on  top  open  and  half 
emptied.  There  is  a  pile  of  tissue-wrapped  and  rib 
boned  packages  under  the  tree,  and  a  general  litter  of 
gifts,  boxes,  and  crumpled  paper  everywhere.  The 
Church  of  the  Nativity  is  fashionable  and  luxurious; 

13 


14  THE  FOOL 

the  effect  of  the  set  must  be  that  of  a  peeping  into  a 
building  spacious,  magnificent,  and  majestic. 

AT  RISE:  Christmas  Eve,  1918.  The  act  begins  in 
bright  day-light — about  half  past  three  in  the  after 
noon — so  that  the  early  winter  twilight  may  have  set  in 
before  its  end.  The  sun's  rays  now  come  through  a 
stained-glass  window  above  the  door  L.,  so  that  the  R. 
of  the  stage  is  bathed  in  white,  the  C.  in  blue,  and  the 
L.  in  a  deep  straw.  Two  women  and  a  girl  are  discov 
ered.  MRS.  HENRY  GILLIAM,  bending  over  the  box 
down  L.,  is  fat,  forty,  rich  and  self-satisfied.  Her 
daughter,  DAFFODIL,  commonly  called  "Dilly," 
perched  upon  the  ladder,  is  a  "flapper."  As  regards 
her  mind,  this  means  that,  at  twenty,  she  is  wise  and 
witty,  cynical  and  confident,  worldly  and  material  be 
yond  her  elders.  Physically,  she  is  pretty,  and,  of 
course,  has  not  hesitated  to  help  out  nature  wherever 
she  has  thought  it  advisable.  Considering  what  has 
been  spent  on  her  education,  she  is  surprisingly  ig 
norant  and  discourteous,  particularly  to  her  mother, 
who  bores  her  dreadfully.  LEILA  THORNBURY  is  a  di 
vorcee;  thirty,  smart,  good-looking,  with  something 
feverish  in  her  face,  in  her  eyes,  in  her  movements. 
Deliberately  attractive  to  men,  she  is  disliked,  in  pro 
portion,  by  women.  All  three  are  very  expensively 
dressed.  Mrs.  Thornbury  has  laid  aside  a  fur  coat 
on  the  cost  of  which  twenty  families  might  have  lived  a 
year.  She  is  at  the  end  of  the  stage,  concerned  with  a 
number  of  dolls  and  other  toys. 


THE  FOOL  15 

MBS.  GILLIAM 

[Turning  with  some  ornament,  on  a  level  with  her 
eyes  she  observes  a  generous  view  of  DILLY'S  nether 
limbs']:  Dilly,  for  pity's  sake,  pull  down  your  skirt! 
[As  DILLY  pays  no  attention,  she  continues  to  MRS. 
THORNBURY]  I  don't  know  what  skirts  are  coming  to ! 

DILLY 

They're  not  coming  to  the  ground,  mother.  You  can 
be  sure  of  that! 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

What  7  can't  understand  is  why  our  young  women 
want  to  go  around  looking  like  chorus  girls ! 

MRS.  THORNBURY 

Perhaps  they've  noticed  the  kind  of  men  that  marry 
chorus  girls. 

DILLY 

Salesmanship,  mother,  begins  with  a  willingness  to 
show  goods. 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

Dilly !    Pull  down  your  skirt! 

DILLY 
I  can't!    That's  all  there  is;  there  isn't  any  more! 

MRS.  THORNBURY 

[Holding  up  two  dolU] :  What  are  we  going  to  do 
with  these? 


16  THE  FOOL 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

[Despairingly  surveying  the  profusion'] :  Goodness 
knows ! 

MRS.  THORNBURY 

I've  two  engagements  before  dinner,  and  I've  got  to 
go  home  and  undress  for  the  opera. 

DlLLT 

7  gave  up  a  dance  for  this. 

MRS.  GILLIAM 
A  dance  at  this  hour? 

DlLLY 

People  dance  at  any  hour,  mother. 

MRS.  GILLIAM 
What  do  they  do  it  for? 

DlLLY 

For  something  to  do.  [To  MRS.  THORNBURY]  We're 
young  and  we've  got  to  have  life  and  gaiety;  haven't 
we,  Mrs.  Thornbury? 

MRS.  THORNBURY 

We've  got  to  have  something.  I  don't  know  what 
it  is,  but  I  know  we  have  to  keep  going  to  get  it. 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

But  you  all  waste  your  time  so  dreadfully.  I'm  busy, 
too,  but  my  life  is  given  to  the  service  of  others. 


THE  FOOL  17 

DILLY 

What  could  be  sweeter? 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

Dilly!  Nobody  knows  better  than  you  that  I've 
never  had  a  selfish  thought!  Mr.  Gilliam 

DILLY 
Of  the  Gilliam  Groceries,  Inc. 

MRS.  GILLIAM 
Mr.  Gilliam  says  I'm  far  too  good ! 

MRS.  THORNBTTRY 
We  agree  with  him,  Mrs.  Gilliam. 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

Only  yesterday  I  gave  five  hundred  pounds  of  coffee 
and  sugar  to  the  Salvation  Army! 

DILLY 

And  today  father  jumped  the  price  of  sugar  to 
thirty-two  cents! 

MRS.  THORNBTJRY 
Now— Dilly! 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

[With  rising  emotion} :  One  gets  precious  little  re 
ward.  ...  I  can  tell  you!  I  sent  helpful  thoughts 
from  the  Bible  to  all  Mr.  Gilliam's  employes !  Now 
they're  on  strike,  and  the  man  that  got  "Be  content 
with  your  wages"  is  leading  the  strikers  !  .  .  .  Where's 
the  Star  of  Bethlehem?  \To  conceal  her  agitation,  she 
has  turned  to  the  box.] 


18  THE  FOOL 

DlLLY 

It  doesn't  work,  mother. 

MBS.  THOBNBUBY 
Are  those  your  husband's  men — on  the  front  steps? 

MILS.  GILLTAM 

Oh,  no!  Those  are  people  from  the  sweat  shops! 
They're  starving,  I  hear,  and  Mr.  Gilliam  says  it  serves 
'em  right!  [Bringing  forth  a  small  easel  What's  the 
matter  with  the  Star  of  Bethlehem? 

DILLY 

Oh,  the  usual !  Whoever  heard  of  the  lights  working 
on  a  Christmas  Tree  ? 

Mas.  GILUAM 

[Holding  up  the  star]  :  But  this  must  work.  Mrs. 
Tice  had  it  made  to  order — of  Parisian  diamonds.  It 
cost  a  hundred  dollars. 

DILLY 

[Reaching  -for  the  gewgaw]  :  All  right !  It's  better 
than  nothing!  [She  takes  it,  and  starts  to  ascend] 
Hold  the  ladder,  mother !  It  wiggles !  [Mas.  GILLIAM 
obeys.] 

MBS.  THOBNBUBY 

[She  has  ribboned  "both  dolls,  and  sets  that  just  finr- 
ished  beside  its  companion  on  the  chair] :  There ! 
[Rises]  I'm  half  dead,  and  there  can't  be  any  more 
presents !  [Starts  up  for  her  coat]  I'd  give  my  left 
hand  for  a  cigarette ! 


THE  FOOL  19 

Mas.  GILLIAM 

Not  here! 

MBS.  THORNBUEY 

I  don't  know  why  not.  We've  had  almost  everything 
else. 

DlLLY 

Mother's  so  Mid-Victorian!  And  ministers  are  find 
ing  they've  got  to  do  something  to  make  church-going 
attractive.  What  do  we  get  out  of  it  now?  I've  heard 
of  preachers  who  go  in  for  dances  and  movies,  and  they 
draw  crowds,  too.  Naturally!  Who  wouldn't  go  to 
church  to  get  a  squint  at  Douglas  Fairbanks?  [She 
has  hung  the  star]  I'm  through ! 

MES.  GILLIAM 
Then  come  down. 

DILLT 

Believe  me,  I'm  glad  to  get  off  this  thing!  [She  de 
scends  unsteadily]  When  I  think  I  broke  an  engage 
ment  with  the  best  fox-trotter  in  New  York  to  do  a 
shimmy  with  a  ladder 

[Ma.  BAENABY,  package-laden,  enters  L.  He  is  the 
sexton,  and  of  the  age,  manner  and  appearance  pe 
culiar  to  sextons]  Oh,  Mr.  Barnaby ! 

MES.  THOENBUEY 

[Tuins  and  is  appalled  at  his  burden}  :  What  have 
you  got? 

ME.  BAENABY 

Some  more  presents. 


20  THE  FOOL 

MBS.  GILLIAM 
Good  Lord! 

Ma.  BARNABY 

[Deposits  his  bundles  on  the  steps  L.C.]  :  Mrs.  Tice 
brought  them.  She  and  Mr.  Jerry  Goodkind.  [MRS. 
GILLIAM  nudges  DILLY]  They're  just  coming  in. 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

[Sotto  voce~\  :  "Dilly,  powder  your  nose !  [DILLY 
takes  her  bag  from  the  communion  rail,  and  obeys']  Mr. 
Barnaby,  our  star  won't  light.  Will  you  see  if  you  can 
fix  it?  [MR.  BARNABY'S  mind  is  on  MRS.  TICE.  She  is 
much  too  rich  to  open  a  door.  He  is  edging  L.~\ 

MRS.  THORNBURY 
And  Mr.  Barnaby [Voices  off  L.] 

MR.  BARNABY 
One  moment! 

[He  opens  the  door  L.  Enter  MRS.  TICE  followed  by 
JERRY  GOODKIND.  MRS.  TICE  has  just  entered 
middle-age,  and  refuses  to  shut  the  door  behind 
her.  Her  wealth,  which  has  given  her  an  air  of 
great  authority,  has  made  it  possible  for  her  to 
look  a  smartly-dressed  young  matron.  The  truth 
is  that  she  is  clinging  to  youth  in  an  ever-lessen 
ing  hope  of  "keeping"  her  husband.  Beneath  the 
(fair  of  authority"  is  something  cowed,  and  wor 
ried,  and  unhappy.  Just  so,  beneath  the  smiling, 
careless  surface  of  JERRY  lies  iron.  He  can  be 


THE  FOOL  21 

very  ugly  when  he  wishes,  and  he  is  always  suffi 
ciently  determined  to  get  what  he  wants,  though 
he  gets  it  generally  by  showing  the  urbane  surface* 
JERRY  would  describe  himself  as  a  "kidder"  He  is 
35;  sleek,  well-groomed,  and  perfectly  satisfied 
with  himself.  His  most  engaging  point  is  a  per 
petual  smile.  ] 

MRS.  Tics 

Hello,  everybody !  ["Everybody"  returns  the  greet 
ing]  Who  are  those  people  on  the  church  steps  ?  A  lot 
of  dirty  foreigners  blocking  the  sidewalk  1 

MR.  BARNABY 

It's  the  grating,  Mrs.  Tice.  The  furnace  room's 
underneath,  and  they're  trying  to  keep  warm. 

MRS.  TICE 

Well,  let  'em  try  somewhere  else!  [Recollection  of 
unpleasant  contact  causes  her  to  brush  her  coat~\  I 
don't  mean  to  be  unkind,  but  there  must  be  missions  or 
something ! 

[MR.  BARNABY  removes  the  coat,  and  then  clwribs  to 
attend  to  the  star] 

MRS.  THORNBURY 
We  didn't  hope  to  see  you  here,  Mr.  Goodkind. 

MRS.  TICE 
I  met  him  in  front  of  Tiffany's ! 

JERRY 
The  most  dangerous  corner  in  New  York! 


22  THE  FOOL 

MRS.  TICE 

And  lured  him  here  by  mentioning  that  Clare  Jewett 
was  helping  us. 

DlLLY 

Somebody  page  Mr.  Gilchrist! 

Mas.  GILLIAM 

Dilly !  What  a  way  of  saying  that  Clare  is  engaged 
to  the  assistant  rector !  .  .  .  Dilly's  looking  well  today, 
isn't  she,  Mr.  Goodkind?  So  young,  and 

JERRY 

And  fresh. 

DILLY 
Oh,  boy! 

MRS.  TICE 

Do  come  and  see  what  I've  got  for  the  girls  of  the 
Bible  Class ! 

Mas.  THORNBTTRY 

Testaments  ? 

MRS.  TICE 

That's  just  it ;  I  haven't!  Bibles  are  so  bromidic !  I 
want  to  give  them  something  they  can  really  use!  And 
it's  so  hard  to  think  of  presents  for  those  girls ;  they've 
got  everything!  [Opening  a  small  parcel  she  has  with 
held  from  MR.  BARNABY]  Guess  how  I've  solved  the 
problem ! 

MRS.  THORNBURY 
I  can't! 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

I  haven't  an  idea! 


THE  FOOL  23 

DlLLY 

I'm  dying  to  know ! 

MBS.  TICB 

[Impressively.    Displaying  the  gift]  :  Sterling  silver 
vanity  cases! 

DlLLY 

[Taking  if]  :  How  ducky ! 

MRS.  THORNBURY 
Charming ! 

MRS.  GILLIAM 
An  inspiration! 

DlLLY 

[Showing  it   to   JERRY]  :     All   complete — lip-stick, 
powder  and  some  nice,  red  rouge. 

JERRY 
[Cynically']  :  To  put  on  before  you  pray? 

DELLY 
Precisely.    To  put  on — before  we — prey! 

MRS.  THORNBURY 

[Gathering  up  her  coat] :  Well,  good  people,  this  is 
where  I  leave  you ! 

MRS.  GILLIAM 
[With  the  air  of  one  bereft]  :  Oh,  Mrs.  Thornbury ! 

MRS.  THORNBURY 

I've  done  my  "one  kind  deed"  today,  and  I've  an  en 
gagement  for  dinner. 

\ 


34  THE  FOOL 

JERRY 
Permit  me.     [Helping  her.']    Some  coat! 

MRS.  THORNBURY 

Yes  .  .  .  thanks.  .  .  .  See  you  all  tomorrow  at  the 
Christmas  Service!  Good-bye,  everybody!  And  Mr. 
Goodkind !  Miss  Jewett's  wrapping  things  in  the  choir 
room !  [Everybody  laughs.  She  exits  L.~\ 

MR.  BARNABY 
I'll  just  try  those  lights.  [Exits  L.] 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

She  has  an  engagement  for  dinner,  but  you  notice  she 
didn't  say  with  whom!  I  don't  think  they  ought  to 
allow  divorced  women  in  the  church ! 

MRS.  TICE 
[Virtuously]  :    The  church  won't  marry  them! 

MRS.  GILLIAM 
That's  the  trouble! 

DILLY 

[Indicating]  :  The  church  will  let  'em  give  stained 
glass  windows! 

MRS.  GILLIAM 
Where  does  she  get  all  her  money? 

MRS.  TICE 
Billy  settled  for  thirty-six  thousand  a  year! 


THE  FOOL  25 

JERRY 

[With  growing  amusement]  :  Think  of  getting  thirty- 
six  thousand  a  year  out  of  munitions !  .  .  .  Gee,  what 
a  lot  of  lives  that  coat  must  have  cost ! 
[Everybody  laughs,  and,  on  the  laugh,  enter  DR.  WAD- 
HAM.    He  is  not  the  stage  clergyman.    On  the  con 
trary,  he  is  a  very  pleasant  and  plausible  person 
— plausible  because  lie  believes  implicitly  in  him 
self.    He  has  passed  sixty,  and  has  a  really  kind 
heart.    But  he  has  had  no  experience  with  life,  and 
he  has  never  been  uncomfortable.] 

DlLLY 

[Hearing  the  door  closed,  looks  around.  Sur 
prised]  :  Here's  Dr.  Wadham ! 

MRS.  GILLIAM 
Why,  Doctor! 

MRS.  TICE 
We  didn't  know  you  were  back. 

JERRY 
7  didn't  know  you'd  been  away,  Doctor. 

DR.  WADHAM 

[Shakes  hands]:  Ten  days;  attending  a  Conference 
on  the  Proper  Use  of  Eucharistic  Candles.  It's  a  sub 
ject  on  which  I  feel  rather  strongly.  [Turns  R]  It's 
pleasant  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Tice.  And  Miss  Daffodil. 

MRS.  GILLIAM 
Isn't  Dilly  looking  wonderful? 


26  THE  FOOL 

DR.  WADHAM 

Quite  wonderful !  [Glancing  at  the  tree]  And  what  a 
beautiful  tree !  The  star  lights  up,  I  suppose. 

DlLLY 

Well,  we  have  hopes ! 

DR.  WADHAM 

Don't  let  me  interrupt.  I've  only  dropped  in  to  keep 
an  appointment  with  the  wardens. 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

We're  all  through,  except  for  putting  these  gifts 
under  the  tree.  [She  busies  herself  with  that  task] 
Miss  Jewett  will  be  in  with  hers  any  minute.  [JERRY, 
who  has  been  contemplating  an  excursion  to  the  choir 
room,  returns  from  the  door,  and  helps  MRS.  GILLIAM] 
The  star  is  real  imitation  diamonds.  A  gift  from  Mrs. 
Tice. 

MRS.  TICE 
[Joining  DR.  WADHAM  L.C.] :   Speaking  of  gifts, 

Doctor 

DR.  WADHAM 
Yes,  dear  lady. 

MRS.  TICE 

My  husband  wanted  me  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you 
about  his  check. 

[She  pauses  -for  encouragement,  -finding  what  she  has 
been  told  to  say  a  trifle  difficult]  You  know,  he  promised 
five  thousand  dollars  to  beautify  the  parlor  of  the 
Parish  House. 

DR.  WADHAM 
[Foreseeing  trouble] :  Oh,  yes. 


THE  FOOL  27 

MBS.  TICE 

And  since  then — well,  frankly,  Doctor,  John  was 
very  much  upset  about  last  Sunday's  sermon.  Mr. 
Gilchrist  preached  from  the  text  about  the  rich  man 
entering  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 

DR.  WADHAM 
Always  a  trifle  dangerous. 

MRS.  TICE 

Yes,  and  last  Sunday  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  direct 
ing  all  his  remarks  at  John.  We're  in  the  first  pew,  you 
know,  and  John  says  he  doesn't  like  to  complain,  but 
there's  getting  to  be  altogether  too  much  of  this — 
Bolshevism.  John  says  the  preachers  are  more  than 
half  to  blame  for  the  present  social  unrest.  I  heard  the 
sermon,  and  I  agree  with  John  that  some  of  it  was  posi 
tively  insulting! 

DR.  WADHAM 

Mr.  Gilchrist  is  young. 

JERUY 
Mr.  Gilchrist  is  a  nut! 

MRS.  TICE 

Do  you  know  what  he  said,  Doctor  ?  He  said  all  this 
— "decking  the  church" — was  making  an  accomplice  of 
God.  He  said  we  couldn't  take  credit  to  ourselves  for 
returning  a  small  portion  of  our  ill-gotten  gains! 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

Small  portion!  When  I've  just  given  away  five  hun 
dred  pounds  of  coffee ! 


28  THE  FOOL 

MRS.  TICE 

He  said  charity  wasn't  giving  away  what  you  didn't 
want! 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

It  was  good  coffee,  too !    Our  second  best  coffee ! 

MRS.  TICE 

Of  course,  what  John  objected  to  was  the  reference 
to  rents — to  charging  clerks  and  bookkeepers  more  than 
they  could  pay  for  "wretched  little  flats."  John  says 
he  doesn't  come  here  to  be  told  how  to  run  his  business ! 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

Quite  right!    And  I  don't  pay  seven  thousand  dol 
lars  a  year  to  hear  my  husband's  coffee  roasted ! 
[They  all  laugh — the  more  because  of  the  previous  ten 
sion.     MRS.  GILLIAM,  surprised  at  first,  sees  the 
point,  and  joins  in  the  laughter. ] 
Well,  you  understand  what  I  mean ! 

DR.  WADHAM 
We  understand,  Mrs.  Gilliam. 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

Personally,  I'm  very  fond  of  Mr.  Gilchrist.  His 
father  had  stock  in  our  stores.  But  I  don't  think  he's  a 
good  influence.  This  used  to  be  a  really  exclusive 
church.  Now,  whenever  Mr.  Gilchrist  preaches,  there's 
such  a  crush  of  undesirable  people  in  the  galleries  you 
can  hardly  get  to  your  pew.  We  don't  have  that 
trouble  with  Dr.  Wadham! 


THE  FOOL  29 

[CLARE  JEWETT  enters  R.,  her  arms  full  of  parcels. 
CLARE  is  %8.  Smartly  dressed,  though  in  a  fashion 
that  suggests  thought  rather  than  expenditure, 
and  pretty,  in  spite  of  a  certain  hardness.  The 
next  sentence  arrests  her,  and  she  stands  in  the 
doorway;  not  eavesdropping,  but  not  interrupt- 
mg.] 

MRS.  TICE 

Mr.  Gilchrist  was  such  a  promising  young  man ! 

MRS.  GILLIAM 
So  rich,  and  happy ! 

DILLY 
[Tantalizing  JERRY]  :  And  in  love ! 

DR.  WADHAM 

He's  still  rich,  and  in  love,  and,  I  think,  he's  still 
happy. 

JERRY 

I've  told  you ;  he's  a  nut ! 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

I  wonder  if  that's  it.  Don't  laugh !  He  wasn't  like 
this  before  he  went  overseas  as  chaplain.  Is  it  possible 
he  was  gassed — or  something? 

CLARE 
Here's  another  armful  of  presents. 

DR.  WADHAM 
Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Miss  Jewett? 


80  THE  FOOL 

CLARE 
I'm  very  well,  thank  you. 

JERRY 
[Starting  to  her]  :  Hello,  Clare !    This  is  a 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

[Intercepting  him  C.]  :  Surprise!  Ha!  And  you've 
been  waiting  for  her  half  an  hour ! 

CLARE 

[To  MRS.  GILLIAM]  :  I'm  afraid  we'll  have  to  get  Mr. 
Barnaby.  There  are  so  many  packages. 

DR.  WADHAM 
Can't  I  help? 

CLARE 

Will  you,  Doctor?  And  Mr.  Hinkle's  in  there  pray 
ing  for  someone  to  consult  about  the  Christmas  music. 

DR.  WADHAM 

I  told  Mr.  Hinkle  the  choir'd  better  begin  by  singing, 
"Peace,  Perfect  Peace,  With  the  Loved  Ones  Far 
Away." 

[DILLY  laughs  and  turns  up  L.,  chanting  "My  Wife's 
Gone  to  the  Country"  Scandalized,  MRS.  GIL 
LIAM  hushes  her.~\ 

MRS.  TICE 

And,  Doctor !  About  the  Parish  House  .  .  .  shall  I 
tell  my  husband  you'll  speak  to  Mr.  Gilchrist? 


THE  FOOL  31 

DE.  WADHAM 

Yes,  I  think  you  may  even  tell  him  that's  why  we're 
here  today.  [He  exits  R.] 

MRS.  GILLIAM 
Dilly,  do  hurry ! 

MRS.  TICK 
Can't  I  drive  you  home? 

MRS.  GILLIAM 

Thank  you  so  much !  Good-bye,  Miss  Jewett.  Good 
bye,  Mr.  Goodkind.  We  must  arrange  for  you  to  come 
up  to  dinner  as  soon  as  the  holidays  are  over.  [He 
bows]  Dilly,  say  "good-bye"  to  Mr.  Goodkind! 

DILLY 
Goodbye-ee ! 

[MR.  BARNABY  re-enters  L.    The  door  closing  attracts 
MRS.  GILLIAM] 

MRS.  GILLIAM 
Oh,  Mr.  Barnaby,  how  about  the  lights? 

MR.  BARNABY 
I  think  the  trouble's  outside. 

MRS.  GILLIAM 
Youll  be  sure  to  fix  it?  [MR.  BARNABY  nods.] 

MRS.  TICE 

And  will  you  put  us  in  the  car?  [MR.  BARNABY  nods 
again,  and  goes  L.~\  I  rather  dread  that  mob  at  the 
door.  [She  follows,  groping  in  her  bag  for  a  bill  to 


32  THE  FOOL 

give  MR.  BARNABY]  Good-bye,  Mr.  Goodkind  .  .  . 
and  Miss  Jewett,  and,  if  I  don't  see  you  tomorrow,  a 
Merry,  Merry  Christmas ! 

[There  is  a  chorus  of  repetitions  of  this  wish,  amid 
which  exeunt  MRS.  TICE,  MRS.  GILLIAM,  DILLY  and 
MR.  BARNABY.] 

CLARE 
It's  funny  to  find  you  in  church. 

JERRY 
Why?  My  father's  the  senior  warden. 

CLARE 

[Laughs  and  takes  up  a  parcel] :  Whatever  else  you 
inherit,  Jerry,  it's  not  likely  to  be  religion ! 

JERRY 

Religion  doesn't  trouble  the  old  man  much — except 
Sundays.    I  came  here  to  see  you. 

CLARE 
Why? 

JERRY 
You've  been  avoiding  me. 

CLARE 
Nonsense!  Come  help  me  with  these  parcels. 

JERRY 
I  want  to  talk  to  you. 

CLARE 

That's  just  it,  Jerry.     You  always  want  to  talk  to 
me,  and  always  to  say  something  I  don't  want  to  hear. 


THE  FOOL  33 

JEEEY 
Why  not? 

CLARE 

[Simply,  but  not  very  surely]  :  I'm  in  love  with  some 
one  else! 

JERRY 
You're  what? 

CLARE 

[Looking  defiantly  into  the  mocking  face  quite  close 
to  hers  and,  this  time,  with  conviction]  :  I'm  in  love 
with  someone  else! 

JERRY 
You're  in  love  with  Clare  Jewett ! 

CLARE 

You're  very  rude.  I'm  engaged  to  Mr.  Gilchrist,  and 
he  loves  me,  and  believes  in  me,  and  your  sense  of  de 
cency  and  fair  play  .  .  . 

JERRY 
Inherited  from  my  father? 

CLARE 

.  .  .  should  keep  you  from  proposing  to  a  woman 
who's  going  to  marry  .  .  . 

JERRY 

You're  not  going  to  marry  Mr.  Gilchrist.  [He 
lounges  against  the  ladder]  What's  the  use  Huffing? 
We've  known  each  other  since  childhood.  You  know 
I'm  not  going  to  give  up  anything  I  want  because  it 
belongs  to  somebody  else.  And  I  know  you're  not 
going  to  give  up  what  you  want — comfort  and  luxury 
— for  a  crazy  man  who  wears  his  collar  hind-side  before ! 


34  THE  FOOL 

CLARE 
Jerry ! 

JERRY 
Now  that's  admitted,  let's  go  on. 

CLARE 
Mr.  Gilchrist  isn't  exactly  poverty-stricken! 

JERRY 

No;  he  got  quite  a  lot  of  money  from  his  father. 
You  like  him  and  when  you  said  "yes,"  you  thought 
you  were  getting  somebody  you  liked,  and  all  the  rest 
of  it,  too.  But  something's  gone  wrong  with  Gilchrist, 
and  you  know  it! 

CLARE 
Why  do  you  say  that? 

JERRY 

Because,  if  you  didn't  before,  you  heard  this  after 
noon.  I  saw  you  standing  in  the  door.  And  I'm  going 
to  tell  you  a  few  things  more ! 

CLARE 

I  don't  want  to  listen ! 

JERRY 

Maybe — but  you  will!  Do  you  know  that  your 
young  trouble-hunter  has  given  away  nearly  one-tenth 
of  his  capital  in  three  months? 

CLARX 
No,  and  I  don't  believe  it ! 


THE  FOOL  35 

JERRY 

All  right;  ask  my  father!  The  old  man  has  his 
money  in  trust !  Gilchrist  won't  touch  his  income  from 
Gilliam  Groceries,  because  they're  profiteering,  and  he's 
preaching  such  anarchy  that  both  wardens  are  coming 
this  afternoon  to  complain  to  Dr.  Wadham!  I  don't 
want  you  to  throw  yourself  away  on  a  raving  bug ! 

CLARE 
And  your  advice  is 

JERRY 

Marry  me.  I'm  a  nice  fellow,  too — and  I  can  give 
you  what  you  really  care  about.  You're  over  your  ears 
in  debt,  without  any  chance  of  paying  up — or  cutting 
down.  And  you  are,  shall  we  say,  twenty-nine  in  Octo 
ber?  I  know  what  it  cost  you  when  your  father  died, 
and  you  had  to  come  down  a  peg.  You  don't  want  to 
keep  on — coming  down,  do  you? 

CLARE 
And  so — you  advise  me  to  marry  you? 

JERRY 
Yes. 

CLARE 

[Looking  at  him  squarely  and  significantly] :  Know 
ing  all  I  do  know  about  you? 

JERRY 
I  don't  see  how  that  concerns  you. 

CLARE 
It  proves  you  don't  love  me. 


36  THE  FOOL 

JEEEY 
I  want  you,  and  I'm  offering  marriage  to  get  you. 

CLARE 
You  haven't  said  one  word  of  love. 


I've  said:  "What's  the  use  bluffing?"  I'm  no  movie 
hero  —  and  no  crazy  dreamer.  I'm  a  little  shop-worn, 
perhaps  —  maybe,  a  little  soiled  —  but  I'm  sane,  and  I'm 
solvent.  You're  good-looking,  and  smart,  and  a  lady. 
Youll  help  my  standing  and  I'll  help  your  credit.  For 
the  rest  —  we  needn't  bother  each  other  too  much.  .  .  . 
What  do  you  say? 

CLAEE 

I  say  it's  —  revoltingly  —  sordid! 

JEEEY 

[Looks  at  her  an  instant]:  All  right!  [Takes  out 
his  watch,  looks  at  that,  and  crosses  to  LJ\  You  think 
it's  sordid  at  3.45  on  Christmas  Eve.  Well,  keep  your 
ears  and  your  mind  open,  and  see  how  you  feel  in  the 
morning.  My  telephone's  six  nine  four  two  Rhine- 
lander  —  and  this  is  the  last  time  I  shall  ask  you  !  [Puts 
his  hand  on  the  knob], 

CLARE 

Wait  !  [He  turns  back]  Whatever  you  believe  of  me, 
I  love  Mr.  Gilchrist  ! 

JEEEY 
Rhinelander  six  nine  four  two. 


THE  FOOL  37 

CLARE 
And,  what's  more,  Pm  going  to  marry  him! 

JERRY 
Rhinelander  six  nine  four  two. 

CLARE 

Jerry,  I  think  you're  the  most  detestable  person  I've 
ever  known  in  my  life ! 

JERRY 

[Laughing] :     Rhinelander  six  ...  nine  .  .  .  four 
.  .  .  two! 

[He  exits  L.,  leaving  CLARE  humiliated  and  fuming. 
She  stands  still  a  moment,  and  then  starts  to  exit 
R.  At  the  tree,  she  throws  down  the  parcels  she  is 
still  carrying,  and,  as  she  does  so,  DR.  WADHAM 
re-enters  R.~\ 

DR.  WADHAM 
Why  .  .  .  Miss  Jewett! 

CLARE 

I'm  nervous !  .  .  .  I  want  to  finish  up  and  go  home ! 
[She  exits  R.  DR.  WADHAM  looks  after  her;  then  picks 
up  the  parcels.  JERRY'S  father,  GEORGE  GOODKIND, 
enters  L.  He  is  about  the  Doctor's  age — sixty — 
but  he  has  had  vast  experience  with  life,  and  he 
enjoys  comfort  now  because  he  has  been  very  un 
comfortable.  Goodkind  is  much  like  any  other 
successful  business  man  you  might  meet — and  like 
— at  dinner.  He  is  brisk  and  economical  of  time, 


38  THE  FOOL 

but  pleasant,  and,  unless  his  interests  are  in 
volved,  extremely  amiable.  He  does  what  he  con 
ceives  to  be  his  duty  by  his  family,  his  community, 
and  his  God,  and  feels  that  all  three  should  ap 
preciate  it.~] 

DR.  WADHAM 

Ah  .  .  .  Mr.  Goodkind!  [Glances  at  his  watch] 
You're  early ! 

GOODKIND 

How  do  you  do,  Doctor?  [Puts  down  his  hat] 
Walked  out  of  a  meeting.  I  don't  like  letting  religion 
interfere  with  business,  but  I  wanted  to  get  here  before 
Benfield.  It's  about  young  Gilchrist. 

DR.  WADHAM 
Shall  we  go  into  my  study? 

GOODKIND 

Benfield's  coming  here,  and  I've  only  a  few  minutes. 
Did  you  know  Gilchrist  proposes  to  preach  a  Christ 
mas  sermon  about  the  strike? 

DR.  WADHAM 
What  strike? 

GOODKIND 

This  garment  strike.  He  announced  his  subject  from 
the  pulpit,  and  Benfield's  furious. 

DR.  WADHAM 
Mr.  Benfield  isn't  interested  in  clothing. 


THE  FOOL  39 

GOODKIND 

No,  but  he's  invested  heavily  in  my  West  Virginia 
coal  mines,  and  down  there  we're  on  the  verge  of  the 
biggest  walk-out  in  our  history.  You  see  what  I  mean? 

DR.  WADHAM 
Yes. 

GOODKIND 

The  labor  problem's  none  of  the  church's  business. 
Or  any  outsider's  business.  It's  a  worrisome  subject, 
and  there's  no  good  stirring  it  up.  That's  what  you 
want  to  tell  Gilchrist! 

DR.  WADHAM 
I  have  told  him  .  .  .  frequently. 

GOODKIND 
And  what's  the  answer? 

DR.  WADHAM 

He  says  every  problem  ought  to  be  the  church's  busi 
ness,  and  that,  until  the  church  becomes  a  power  in 
live  issues,  it  isn't  a  power  in  life! 

GOODKIND 
He<won't  listen  to  reason? 

DR.  WADHAM 
No. 

GOODKIND 

Then  he'll  have  to  listen  to  something  else.  If  he  per 
sists  about  this  Christmas  sermon — [BARNABY  enters 
L.  GOODKIND  turns.  Impatiently]  What  is  it,  Bar- 
naby? 


40  THE  FOOL 

MR.  BARNABY 
There's  a  man  out  there  wants  to  see  Mr.  Gilchrist. 

GOODKIND 
What  kind  of  a  man? 

MR.  BARNABT 
[Indifferently]  :  A  poor  man.    I  think  he's  a  Jew. 

GOODKIND 
Who  ever  heard  of  a  poor  Jew? 

DR.  WADHAM 
Mr.  Gilchrist  isn't  here. 

MR.  BARNABY 

I  told  him  that,  but  he  won't  .go  away.  I  wanted  to 
ask  had  I  better  send  for  the  police? 

DR.  WADHAM 
Oh,  I  wouldn't  do  that ! 

MR.  BARNABY 

Why  don't  he  go  over  to  the  Synagogue  instead  of 
hanging  around  a  Christian  Church?  Mr.  Gilchrist 
gave  this  fellow  his  overcoat.  I  suppose  he's  come  back 
for  the  gloves ! 

DR.  WADHAM 

Tell  him  I'll  speak  to  Mr.  Gilchrist.  [MR.  BARNABY 
shakes  his  head  despairingly  and  exits.] 

GOODKIND 

Well,  there  you  are,  and  what  I  wanted  to  talk  about 
privately  is  ...  what's  got  into  the  boy?  Has  he 
gone  crazy? 


THE  FOOL  41 

Da.  WADHAM 
I've  asked  myself  that.    I've  asked  myself  if  what  he 

saw  in  France 

GOODKIND 

Exactly.  A  lot  of  young  fellows  go  off  the  handle 
and  start  out  to  reform  the  world,  but  this  lad  has  run 
through  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  less  than  three 

months ! 

DR.  WADHAM 

In  addition  to  his  salary? 

GOODKIND 

Yes.  I  could  understand  if  he'd  spent  the  money  on 
himself,  but  he  hasn't !  He's  given  it  away !  [Da.  WAD- 
HAM  shakes  his  head]  Gilchrist's  father  was  my  first 
partner,  and  I  got  the  boy  in  here,  and  I  feel  respon 
sible  for  him.  As  trustee,  I  can  refuse  to  turn  over 
another  penny  of  his  principal,  and,  as  senior  warden, 
I  can  demand  his  resignation  from  this  church.  But 
I  want  him  to  have  every  chance.  Tell  him  if  hell  get 
a  grip  on  himself,  and  reconsider  tomorrow's  ser 
mon -[Enter  BENFIELD  L.]  Here's  Benfield! 

["CHABLIE"  BENFIE:LD  is  fifty,  and  a  "rough  diamond." 
He  is  self-made,  and  proud  of  it,  though  nothing 
really  good — nothing  of  education,  or  refinement, 
or  "knowledge  and  appreciation  of  fine  things — has 
gone  into  the  making.  He  is  arrogant,  domineer 
ing,  used  to  having  his  own  way,  and  to  sweeping 
aside  obstacles.  He  comes  in  with  his  hat  on  his 
head,  and  it  is  a  minute  later,  when  DR.  WADHAM'S 


42  THE  FOOL 

glance  makes  him  aware  of  the  fact,  that  he  fe- 
moves  it.] 

BENFEELD 
Hello,  George !    Howdy,  Doctor !    Am  I  late? 

DR.  WADHAM 

[BENFIELD'S  very  presence  makes  him  nervous] : 
We've  been  waiting  for  you.  Hadn't  we  better  retire 
to  my  study  if  we're  going  to  discuss  Mr.  Gilchrist? 

BENFIELD 

We're  not !  We've  been  discussing  long  enough !  All 
I  got  to  say  now  is:  Gilchrist  leaves  this  church  or 
I  do! 

GOODKIND 

Now  wait  a  minute ! 

DR.  WADHAM 
Isn't  that  a  little  mandatory? 

BENFIEI/D 

I  don't  know  what  it  is,  but  it  goes!  I've  worked 
hard  all  my  life,  and  now  this  fellow  gets  up  and  tells 
me  what  I've  worked  for  is  nothing,  and  that  I'm  noth 
ing,  and  all  my  ideas  is  wrong ! 

DR.  WADHAM 
He  didn't  say  that. 

BENFIELD 

Oh,  yes,  he  did — last  Sunday  and  every  Sunday! 
Fve  got  two  million  dollars  tied  up  in  Black  River 
mines,  and  I'm  not  paying  to  have  the  socialist  papers 
down  there  print  that  my  own  minister  is  in  favor  of 
strikes!. 


THE  FOOL  43 

GOODKIND 

Wait  a  minute,  Charlie !  That's  not  the  tone  to  take 
to  Dr.  Wadham!  We  all  feel  that  Gilchrist  has  gone 
too  far,  and  we're  agreed 

BENFIELD 
Does  he  preach  tomorrow? 

GOODKIND 
We're  agreed  that  if  he  insists  on  preaching  about 

BENFIELD 
GOODKIND 

BENFIELD 
All  right.    And  if  he  don't  insist? 

GOODKIND 
He  stays. 

BENFIELD 

And  I  go !  [He  gets  his  hat  and  returns.  DANIEL 
GILCHBJST  enters  L.~\  You  can  decide  which  of  us  is 
the  most  valu'ble  to  your  church!  Because  I  tell  you 
again — and  straight — this  church  ain't  big  enough  for 
Gilchrist  and  me ! 

DANIEL 

[Smiling] :  A  church  that  isn't  big  enough  for  two 
little  men,  Mr.  Benfield,  must  be  somewhat  crowded  for 
God! 


44  THE  FOOL 

[BENFEELD  carmot  trust  himself  to  answer.  He  jams 
his  hat  upon  his  head,  and  exits  L.  GILCHBIST  is 
33.  He  was  a  -football  hero  at  college,  and  shows 
it.  He  was  a  gentleman  before  lie  went  to  college, 
and  he  has  been  one  ever  since,  and  he  shows  that, 
too.  What  he  doesn't  show  is  what  one  expects 
in  a  "reformer" — narrowness,  hardness,  some 
thing  forbidding.  An  ascetic,  beyond  doubt,  self- 
denial  has  only  made  him  trim  and  fit.  The  good 
ness  that  shines  in  his  face  is  partly  good  humor. 
He  has  honest  eyes,  with  -fire  in  them,  and  there  is 
strength  and  zeal  back  of  that — strength  and  zeal 
that  will  leave  their  mark  later.  As  yet,  his  exalta 
tion  is  chiefly  in  his  smile.  His  great  gift  is 
charm — and  sympathy.  At  this  moment,  he  wears 
no  overcoat,  and  is  glowing  from  the  cold.  StiU 
smiling,  he  looks  after  BENFIELD.] 

Da.  WADHAM 

[Embarrassed]  :     Mr.    Benfield   is    a    little — ah — a 

little 

DANIEL 
Yes;  a  little. 

[GOODKIND  crosses  for  his  hat,  and  observes  DANIEL, 
who  is  chafing  his  wrists.] 

GOODKIND 

Pneumonia   weather,   Daniel!     Where's   your   over 
coat? 

DANIEL 
Outside. 


THE  FOOL  45 

GOODKIND 

Oh,  yes.  There's  a  man  out  there,  too,  who  says  he 
won't  go  'way  until  he  sees  you.  [He  joins  DANIEL] 
Dan,  you're  an  awfully  decent  fellow,  but  I  still  think 
you  made  a  mistake  going  into  the  church.  If  you  ever 
want  to  talk  it  over  with  me,  I'd  be  glad  to  help  you — 
any  time !  You  know  that !  Good-bye,  Doctor !  Good 
bye,  Dan,  and  a  Merry  Christmas  !  [He  exits  L.~\ , 
DR.  WADHAM 

Daniel,  you're  in  trouble. 

DANIEL 
[Smiling]  :   Doctor,  I'm  used  to  it. 

DR.  WADHAM 

This  time  it's  serious.  I've  warned  you  often.  I 
don't  see  how  you  can  have  been  so  blind. 

DANIEL 

I  haven't  been  blind. 

DR.  WADHAM 
Then  you  don't  care  for  your  position  in  this  church. 

DANIEL 
[With  feeling]:    There's  only  one  thing  I  care  for 

more.  -P.      ^r 

DR.  WADHAM 

And  that  is? 

DANIEL 
To  be  worthy  of  it. 

DR.  WADHAM 

When  you're  as  old  as  I  am,  Daniel,  youll  under 
stand  that  being  honest  doesn't  necessarily  mean  being 
disagreeable. 


46  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 
Doesn't  it  mean — telling  the  truth? 

DR.  WADHAM 
Do  you  know  the  truth,  Daniel? 

DANIEL 

Yes;  don't  you?  Doesn't  every  man — in  his  heart? 
And  if  we  want  to  keep  it  in  our  hearts,  and  never  think 
about  it  or  look  it  in  the  face,  shouldn't  someone  pry 
open  the  door  and  cry:  "Behold"?  ...  I  didn't  tell 
them  anything  they  didn't  know,  Doctor.  I  don't  know 
anything  they  don't  know.  I  just  reminded  them 

DR.  WADHAM 

[Exploding  on  the  last  word] :  That  we  were 
heathen ! 

DANIEL 

That  we  were  Christians,  and  every  man  our  brother, 
and  that  we  were  sitting,  overdressed  and  overfed,  in  a 
Christian  Church,  while  our  brother  froze  and  starved 
— outside — in  a  Christian  World! 

DR.  WADHAM 
That  isn't  fair !    These  good  people  have  given 

DANIEL 

Given — what  cost  them  nothing!  Frumpery  and 
trumpery  and  diamond  stars !  That's  how  all  of  us  give 
— what  we  don't  need;  what  W3  don't  even  want!  .  .  . 
You're  a  good  man,  Doctor,  and,  honestly,  what  would 
you  say  tomorrow  if  your  wife  told  you  she'd  sold  her 
rings,  and  given  the  money  to  the  poor? 


THE  FOOL  47 

DR.  WADHAM 

Why,  I 

DANIEL 

You'd  say  she  was  crazy ! 

DR.  WADHAM 
But  there's  no  necessity 

DANIEL 

Oh,  yes,  there  is !  There'll  be  people  lying  in  the 
parks  tonight.  What  would  Mrs.  Tice  say  if  I  in 
vited  them  to  sleep  in  her  pew  ? 

DR.  WADHAM 

That  there's  no  reason  why  she  should  chare  dirt  and 
disease ! 

DANIEL 

Exactly !  We  may  believe  in  the  brotherhood  of  man, 
but  we  know  about  germs !  We're  not  sure  what  is 
truth,  but  there's  one  thing  we  are  sure  of,  and  mean 
to  be  sure  of,  and  that's  our  own  comfort !  You  know 
that,  and  I  know  it,  and  they  know  it — but  we  mustn't 
say  it !  All  right ;  in  Go'd's  name,  what  are  we  to  say  ? 

DR.  WADHAM 

[Who  hat  been  nervously  regarding  this  raving  as 
confirming  the  worst  fears  of  MR.  GOODKIND]  :  Pre 
cisely.  And  that  brings  us  to  tomorrow's  sermon.  I 
understand  you  intend  to  talk  about  the  strike.  [Dan 
nods  "Yes"]  And  that's  not  a  very  pleasant  subject  for 
Christmas.  Wouldn't  it  be  more  fitting  to  preach  from 
the  text,  "Glory  to  God  in  the  Highest"? 


48  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 

"And  on  earth,  Peace,  good  will  toward  men"? 

DE.  WADHAM 

[Delighted]  :  Yes  !  You  might  say,  "There  are  many 
kinds  of  peace " 

DANIEL 
But  there  aren't! 

DR.  WADHAM 

There  is  physical  peace — peace  that  came  with  the 
end  of  this  cruel  war! 

DANIEL 

There  is  no  peace !  There  is  only  fear — and  hate — 
and  vanity — and  lust,  and  envy,  and  greed — of  men 
and  nations!  There  are  only  people  preying  on  one 
another,  and  a  hungry  horde  at  the  very  doors  of  your 
church!  .  .  .  My  text  will  be:  "And  Peter  followed 
afar  off." 

DR.  WADHAM 
I  don't  understand. 

DANIEL 

[Into  his  tone,  hitherto  indignantly  human,  comes 
something  mystic — something  divine]  :  We  all  follow 
— afar  off. 

DR.  WADHAM 

[Alarmed;  not  at  the  words,  but  at  that  "something 
divine*9]  :  Daniel  .  .  .  my  dear  fellow ! 


THE  FOOL  49 

DANIEL 

Don't  worry.  I'm  quite  sane.  Only — I've  been 
wondering  about  that  for  a  long  time. 

DR.  WADHAM 
Wondering? 

DANIEL 

What  would  happen  if  anybody  really  tried  to  live 
like  Christ. 

DR.  WADHAM 

[Shaking  his  head]  :  It  can't  be  done. 

DANIEL 

Isn't  it  worth  trying?  Men  risk  their  lives — every 
day — in  experiments  far  less  worth  while.  We've  had 
centuries  of  "fear,  and  hate,  and  greed" — and  where 
have  they  brought  us?  Why  not  try  love? 

DR.  WADHAM 
How  can  you  make  them  try  ? 

DANIEL 
By  showing  that  it  would  work. 

DR.  WADHAM 

It  won't  work,  Daniel.  It's  a  beautiful  ideal,  but  it 
won't  work.  Times  have  changed,  and  things  are  dif 
ferent.  Life  isn't  as  simple  as  it  was  two  thousand 
years  ago.  The  trouble  with  you,  Daniel,  is  that  you're 
not  practical. 

DANIEL 
I  wonder. 


50  THE  FOOL 

DR.  WADHAM 

And  the  great  need  of  the  church  is  practical  men. 
We  mustn't  take  the  Scriptures  too  literally.  We 
must  try  to  interpret  their  spirit.  And,  above  all,  we 
must  please  our  congregations,  or  we  shan't  have  any. 
And  then  what  becomes  of  our  influence?  Better  fall 
back  on  my  text  for  tomorrow,  Daniel. 

DANIEL 
I  can't. 

DR.  WADHAM 
At  least,  you  must  promise  not  to  discuss  the  strike. 

DANIEL 
I  can't  do  that,  Doctor. 

DR.  WADHAM 
Or  else  let  me  take  the  pulpit. 

DANIEL 

I  won't  do  that !     [A  pause. ~\ 

DR.  WADHAM 
Very   well!     Preach   your    Christmas    sermon,   and 

afterward 

DANIEL 
Yes? 

DR.  WADHAM 

I  think  you  may  find  a  greater  field  of  usefulness 
elsewhere.  [A  long  pause.  The  men  look  at  each  other, 
and  then  DANIEL  turns  away  to  conceal  his  emotion. 
He  goes  up  -for  his  hat,  and  returns.']  I'm  sorry, 
Daniel.  I  know  you're  been  very  happy  in  your  work 
here.  I  know  how  failure  hurts.  But  you  saw  it  com 
ing,  and  you  wouldn't  turn  aside. 


THE  FOOL  51 

DANIEL 

[He  looks  up  with  flashing  eyes]  :  The  man  who 
turns  away  from  his  vision — lies !  [Shakes  hands]  It's 
all  right,  Doctor.  [He  crosses  L.  CLARE  JEWETT, 
ready  for  the  street,  enters  R.~\ 

DR.  WADHAM 

[Brightly]  :  Well,  Miss  Jewett !  [DANIEL  hears  the 
name  and  stops.  He  is  consoled  by  her  very  presence] 
What's  happened  to  the  choir? 

CLARE 

Mr.  Hinkle  cut  his  finger.  I've  been  applying  first 
aid. 

DR.  WADHAM 

Woman's  traditional  mission — to  bind  our  wounds. 
[He  turns  to  exit,  and  sees  DANIEL.    He  is  struck  by 
the  double  significance  of  his  remark,  and  the  time 
liness  of  CLARE'S  arrival.] 

Well,  I  must  be  going!  Step  into  my  study  in  the 
morning,  Daniel,  and  we'll  have  a  look  at  your  sermon ! 
[He  exits  L.  From  here  the  lights  dim  very  slowly.] 

CLARE 

I  hope  I  never  see  another  doll!  Got  anything  on 
your  mind,  Dan? 

DANIEL 
[Quickly]  :   What  do  you 

CLARE 
I  mean  anything  special  to  do? 


62  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 
Oh  I— No. 

CLARE 
Take  me  home. 

DANIEL 

[He  beams] :  Tm  getting  my  Christmas  present 
early !  [Gets  his  hat.'] 

CLARE 
Where's  your  coat? 

DANIEL 

Outside.  That  is — I  lent  it  to  a  friend.  Oh,  I've 
got  another — somewhere ! 

CLARE 

But  you  can't  go  out  without  a  coat.  [Looks  at 
wrist  watch]  Anyway,  I  told  the  taxi  man  to  come  back 
at  half  past  four.  That's  the  worst  of  not  having  a 
car.  Well,  we  may  as  well  sit  down !  [He  assists  her, 
but  his  mind  is  afar.]  What's  the  matter  with  you, 

Dan? 

DANIEL 

Nothing  important. 

CLARE 

There  will  be  if  you  insist  on  going  around  without 
an  overcoat!  [Looking  at  him  narrowly]  You're  too 
generous.  [He  is  still  afar.] 

I  say  you're  too  generous !  How  are  we  going  to  be 
married  if  you  go  on  giving  things  away? 

DANIBL 

[Laughs]  :  Is  generosity  a  fault  in  a  husband? 


THE  FOOL  53 

CLARE 

That  depends.  Is  it  true  you've  been  giving  away — » 
well — large  sums  of  money? 

DANIEL 

Who  told  you  that? 

CLARE 

A  little  bird.  [He  laughs]  And  that  you've  refused 
to  take  part  of  your  income? 

DANIEL 
Little  bird  tell  you  that? 

CLARE 
Yes. 

DANIEL 

Must  have  been  a  cuckoo ! 

CLARE 
Is  it  true? 

DANIEL 

About  the  money?    Yes. 

CLARE 
Why? 

DANIEL 

Well,  there's  the  strike,  and  a  good  deal  of  unem 
ployment,  and  I've  got  so  much.  Why — I've  got  you! 

CLARE 

[Rises']  :  Let's  not  talk  about  it  now.  [She  turns  L. 
Hesitates;  looks  at  her  wrist  watch;  looks  off  L.]  Yes; 
let's ! — You're  so  changed.  I  hardly  know  you.  We 
don't  seem  to  want  the  same  things  any  more. 

DANIEL 

What  do  you  want,  Clare? 


54  THE  FOOL 

CLARE 
I  want  to  be  happy. 

DANIEL 

That's  exactly  what  I  want ! 

CLARE 
How  can  anybody  be  happy  without  money? 

DANIEL 

How  can  anybody  be  happy  with  it?  Anyway,  do 
you  think  people  are?  Happier  than  the  people  who 
just  have  enough? 

CLARE 

In  our  day  and  age  there's  nothing  worse  than  pov 
erty  !  There's  nothing  more  degrading  than  having  to 
scrimp,  and  save,  and  do  without,  and  keep  up  appear 
ances!  I've  tried  it  ...  ever  since  my  father  died 
.  .  .  and  I  know!  I  can't  do  it  any  longer,  and  I 
won't ! 

DANIEL 

Clare! 

CLARE 

[She  turns  away,  and  comes  back  somewhat  calmer]  : 
I  don't  want  to  quarrel  with  you,  Dan.  I  just  want 
you  to  be  sensible  ...  I  love  you,  but  I  love  the  good 
things  of  life,  too.  I  like  to  be  warm  and  comfortable. 

DANIEL 

You  can  be  sure  of  that. 

CLARE 

But  that's  only  the  beginning.  I  want  good  clothes, 
and  furs,  and  my  car,  and  money  to  spend  when  I 
like.  I  want  my  own  house,  and  my  own  servants,  and 


THE  FOOL  55 

a  husband  who  amounts  to  something.    I'm  no  different 
from  other  women  of  my  class. 

DANIEL 
I  hoped  you  were. 

CLARE 

A  year  or  two  ago  people  thought  you  were  going 
to  be  a  Bishop.  Today  you've  made  an  enemy  of  every 
influential  man  in  the  church.  All  that  may  be  very 
noble,  but  I'm  not  noble,  and  I  don't  pretend  to  be.  I 
don't  feel  any  call  to  sacrifice  myself  for  others,  and  I 
don't  think  you  have  any  right  to  ask  it ! 

DANIEL 
I  do  ask  it,  Clare. 

CLARE 
You  mean  you're  going  on  like  this? 

DANIEL 

I  mean  I  can't  give  you  expensive  clothes,  and  ser 
vants,  and  a  big  house  while  all  about  us  people  are 
hungry. 

CLARE 
What  do  you  propose  to  give  me? 

DANIEL 

A  chance  to  help. 

CLARE 

To  help  wash  the  dishes,  I  suppose,  in  a  three-room 
flat  in  a  side  street! 

DANIEL 
And  to  visit  the  sick,  and  befriend  the  friendless. 

CLARE 
A  charming  prospect ! 


66  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 

It  really  is,  Clare.  You  don't  know  how  happy  we 
can  be  with  work,  and  our  modest  plenty.  There's  so 
much  to  do — and  they  won't  let  me  do  it  here.  We've 
got  to  get  near  the  people  in  trouble,  and  we  can't  with 
a  big  house  and  all  that.  I  don't  think  we  shall  come  to 
a  three-room  flat.  [He  smiles]  yVell  have  five  or  six 
rooms,  and  our  books,  and  each  other. 

CLARE 

I  can't  believe  you're  serious.  You've  always  been 
a  dreamer,  but  I  can't  believe  you're  going  through  with 
this  fantastic  nonsense! 

DANIEL 

Fve  chosen  a  narrow  path,  dear,  but  I  hoped  it  might 
be  wide  enough  for  us  both. 

CLARE 

It  isn't.  With  your  means  and  opportunities,  you're 
offering  me  what  any  bank  clerk  would  give  his  wife. 
I  thought  you  loved  me,  but  you're  utterly  selfish,  and 
I  think  a  little  mad.  You've  a  right  to  throw  away 
your  own  life,  but  you've  no  right  to  throw  away  mine. 
[She  hands  him  his  ring]  Our  engagement  is  off.  [A 
pause.  She  starts  for  the  door,  and  then  hesitates, 
looks  at  her  wrist  watch,  waits  for  him  to  call  her  back. 
When  he  doesn't,  she  returns. ,]  Don't  you  think  you're 
making  a  terrible  mistake? 

DANIEL 

[Looks  up  -from  the  ring.  Simply]  :  No.  [CLARE 
turns  again,  this  time  quickly  and  with  resolution,  and 


THE  FOOL  57 

exits  L.  The  church  is  quite  dark,  except  for  light 
streaming  from  the  open  door  R.  DAN  looks  at  the 
ring,  and  puts  it  in  his  pocket.  With  his  back  to  the 
audience,  he  looks  at  the  altar  of  his  church.  Sud 
denly,  from  R.,  the  organ  is  heard,  playing  "Hark  the 
Herald  Angels.'9  He  crosses  and  closes  the  door.  In 
the  blackness,  he  hears  a  step.  THE  POOR  MAN  has 
come  on  through  the  open  door  JL]  Who's  there?  .  .  . 
Are  you  looking  for  someone? 

POOR  MAN 
Yes. 

DANIEL 

I'm  the  assistant  rector  .   .  .  Mr.  Gilchrist. 

POOR  MAN 
I  know  you,  Mr.  Gilchrist. 

DANIEL 

Oh,  yes ;  I  remember.    You're  the  man  who  was  cold. 
Can  I  do  anything  for  you? 

POOR  MAN 
I  think  you  can. 

DANIEL 

Let's  have  it  then. 

POOR  MAN 
Perhaps  I  can  help  you,  too. 

DANIEL 
In  what  way  ? 

POOR  MAN 
In  my  way. 


58  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 

My  poor  man,  I  wish  you  could ! 

[His  despair  impels  him  to  confide  in  anyone]  :  I  was 
so  sure  of  what  I  wanted  to  do,  and  now  I  begin  to 
wonder  if  it  can  be  done ! 

POOR  MAN 
It  has  been  done. 

DANIEL 

But  in  this  day — in  this  practical  world — can  any 
man  follow  the  Master? 

POOR  MAN 

Why  not?  Is  this  day  different  from  any  other? 
Was  the  world  never  practical  before  ?  Is  this  the  first 
time  of  conflict  between  flesh  and  spirit?  If  it  could 
be  done  then,  why  not  now,  and,  if  it  was  ever  worth 
the  doing,  why  not  now? 

DANIEL 
But  how? 

POOE  MAN 
We  have  been  told  how. 

DANIEL 

"Take  no  thought  of  the  morrow.  .  .  .  Sell  whatso 
ever  thou  hast,  and  give  to  the  poor.  .  .  .  Love  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself.  .  .  .  Bless  them  that  curse  you,  do 
good  to  them  that  hate  you."  But  if  a  man  did  those 
things  today  people  would  think  him  mad ! 

POOR  MAN 
What  does  it  matter  ? 

DANIEL 
He  would  lose  everything ! 


THE  FOOL  59 

POOR  MAN 
And  gain  everything! 

DANIEL 

What  good  can  one  man  do? 

POOR  MAN 
Why  don't  you  try? 

DANIEL 
He  tried,  and  they  crucified  Him! 

POOR  MAN 

Did  they?  And  if  they  did,  what  does  that  matter? 
Is  a  man  dead  whose  ideal  lives?  Ye  crucified  me,  but 
I  am  with  ye  alway,  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world ! 

DANIEL 

In  God's  name,  who  are  you? 

POOR  MAN 
I  am  a  Jew ! 

[As  he  speaks,  slowly  the  tree  and  everything  beneath 
it  is  illuminated  by  the  Star  of  Bethlehem.  The 
light,  dim  at  first,  grows  stronger  and  stronger,  its 
rays  revealing  sanctuary  and  picking  out  the 
points  of  the  cross  on  the  altar.  But  where  the 
POOR  MAN  stood  is  nothing.  There  is  no  one  there. 
The  spirit — if  spirit  it  was — has  disappeared. 
The  man — if  man  it  was — has  gone.  DANIEL  gives 
a  cry,  and,  as  he  does  so,  the  light  is  extinguished, 
and  suddenly,  to  the  music  that  has  been  heard 
faintly  through  the  door  R.  during  this  scene,  the 
full  choir  sings:  "Hark  the  Herald  Angels  Sing." 
In  black  darkness 

THE   CURTAIN  FALLS 


ACT  II. 

:  GEORGE  F.  GOODKIND'S  Library.  New  York. 

Ten  months  later.  The  set  has  only  two  essentials — 
a  wide,  curtained,  glass  door  L.,  and  an  ordinary,  heavy 
wooden  door  down  R.  The  first  gives  entrance  to  the 
music  room,  which  is  indicated  rather  completely  when 
the  door  is  open.  The  second,  by  way  of  a  hall  and  a 
flight  of  stairs,  leads  to  the  main  entrance  of  the  house. 
For  the  rest,  the  library  is  a  shallow  room,  very  much 
Uke  any  other  library  in  the  home  of  any  other  rich  and 
well  educated  man.  It  is  a  little  richer  and  more  lux 
urious  than  most,  perhaps,  with — here  and  there — 
priceless  things  from  palaces  in  Venice  or  art  collections 
in  Rome.  The  obsession  of  business  is  suggested  by 
various  utilities,  transient  and  otherwise — a  row  of  law 
books,  a  small  fie,  and  a  pile  of  papers  upon  the  sub 
stantial  library  table. 

AT  RISE:  It  is  a  Saturday  evening  in  November, 
1919.  The  GOODKINDS  have  been  entertaining  infor 
mally  at  dinner,  and,  having  finished  the  chief  business 
of  the  occasion,  the  company  is  now  diverting  itself  vn 
the  music  room.  This  room  is  brilliantly  illuminated; 
one  sees  the  shadow  of  a  man  leaning  against  the  glass 
door.  DILLY  GILUAM,  at  the  piano,  is  playing  one  of 
the  syncopations  popular  at  the  time.  After  a  moment, 
a  servant,  with  a  card  tray,  enters  R.,  crosses  and  exits 

60 


THE  FOOL  61 

L.  An  instant  later,  GOODKIND,  in  evening  clothes,  en 
ters  L.  He  has  a  card  in  his  hand.  The  SERVANT  re- 
enters,  re-crosses,  and  re-exits,  stopping,  en  route,  to 
switch  on  the  lights.  GOODKIND  looTcs  at  the  pile  on  the 
table,  and  turns  the  topmost  paper  face  down.  BEN- 
FIELD,  alto  in  evening  clothes,  enters  L. 

BENFIELD 
What  the  h— 

GOODKIND 
Shut  the  door. 

[BENFIELD  does  so.     As  he  returns,  GOODKIND  gives 
him  the  card] 

BENFIELD 
[Reading] 
"Labor  conciliators." 

[Throws  the  card  on  the  table] 
What  the  h— 

GOODKIND 

What  are  labor  conciliators?  Mostly  thugs.  When 
you've  been  director  in  a  coal  mining  company  a  little 
longer  you'll  know.  We've  got  a  million  dollars'  worth 
of  'em  handling  this  strike. 

BENFIELD 
Police  duty? 

GOODKIND 

No ;  spies  and  agents  provocateur.  I  hate  the  breed, 
but  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?  This  fellow, 
Max  Stedtman,  got  into  the  union  five  or  six  years  ago, 
and  now  he's  one  of  the  delegation  they've  sent  up  to 
me.  .  .  .  Where's  Jerry? 


62  THE  FOOL 

BENFIELD 
I  gave  him  the  high  sign. 

GOODKIND 

[Offering  cigars] : 
Smoke? 

BENFIELD 

[Taking  one] : 

Thanks.  .  .  .  Why  didn't  you  go  down  to  West 
Virginia? 

GOODKIND 

Had  to  look  over  that  power  plant  in  Canada. 

BENFIELD 
Oh,  yes ! 

GOODKIND 

Anyway,  what  do  I  know  about  coal  mining? 

BENFIELD 
You're  president  of  the  company. 

GOODKIND 

Yes,  but  that  means  digging  up  money — not  coal. 
I've  never  set  foot  in  West  Virginia  in  my  life;  and  I 
don't  want  to! 

BENFIELD 

Yes,  but  in  a  serious  situation  like  this— 
Go  ODKIND 

I  sent  Jerry.  Jerry  has  a  dozen  qualifications  and 
no  scruples.  And  I  sent  Gilchrist. 


THE  FOOL  63 

BENFIELD 
Who  has  scruples  and  no  qualifications. 

GOODKIND 

Thus  striking  a  balance.  I  mean  that !  Don't  make 
any  mistake  about  Gilchrist.  He's  a  valuable  man.  I 
didn't  hire  him  because  I  was  sorry  he  got  fired  out  of 
the  church  .  .  .  and  only  a  little  because  I  knew  his 
father.  I  hired  him  because  he  had  theories,  and  I 
wanted  to  try  'em  out! 

BENFIELD 
I'll  say  he's  got  theories! 

GOODKIND 

Yes,  and  the  remarkable  part  of  it  is  ...  some 
times  they  work.  They  worked  up  at  that  power  plant. 
A  year  ago  I  wouldn't  have  taken  it  as  a  gift.  Gilchrist 
applied  a  little  soft  soap — 

BENFIELD 
Soft  soap  or  gold  dust? 

GOODKIND 

Well,  both;  but,  damn  it,  Charlie,  with  all  the  in 
creased  wages  and  decreased  working  hours,  the  plant's 
making  money  now  for  the  first  time ! 
[Enter  JERRY  L.     He  is  a  little  sullen — the  result  of 
brandy  and  resentment.     He,  too,  is  in  evening 
clothes,  and  he  closes  the  door  behind  him.'] 

GOODKIND 
There's  something  in  Gilchrist! 


64  THE  FOOL 

JERRY 
Mostly  bugs ! 

GOODKIND 
All  right! 

JERRY 

I  told  you  what  he  was  doing  at  the  mines.  Now  he 
wires  you,  "Everything  settled  if  you  accede  to  rational 
conditions,"  and  up  comes  this  delegation!  What  are 
the  conditions?  I'll  tell  you  now — surrender!  You're 
crazy  if  you  see  these  workmen!  We've  nothing  to 
discuss !  They're  our  mines,  and  well  run  'em  as  we 
like!  If  this  philanthropist  of  yours  carries  out  in 
structions  we've  got  'em  whipped !  .  .  .  What  was  the 
idea  of  the  high  sign? 

GOODKIND 

[As  BENFIELD  picks  up  the  card  to  answer] : 
Stedtman. 

JERRY 
Where? 

GOODKIND 
On  the  way  up. 

JERRY 
Of  course,  we're  leaving  our  guests  flat ! 

BENFIELD 
Your  wife's  in  there! 

JERRY 
Clare  resents  our  talking  business  at  home. 

GOODKIND 

Resents — and  you  haven't  been  married  a  year! 
Palaver's  a  wife's  job!  They  oil  the  machinery  while 
we  shovel  in  coal!  [The  SERVANT  re-enters  12.] 


THE  FOOL  65 

SERVANT 
Mr.  Stedtman. 

[Enter  MAX  STEDTMAN.  He  is  a  wiry  little  man,  with 
the  face  of  a  ferret  and  the  furtiveness  of  a  rat. 
His  nervousness  does  not  indicate  lack  of  self- 
confidence.  That  quality  has  made  Stedtman  the 
man  he  is  to-day.  For  the  rest,  he  is  40,  and 
faintly  Semitic.  The  SERVANT  exit*.] 

GOODKIND 

How  do,  Stedtman?     This  is  Mr.  Benfield — one  of 
our  new  directors. 

[They  acknowledge  the  introduction] 
You  know  my  son. 

STEDTMAN 

[Nods']  :  Saw  him  down  to  Black  River. 
[They   sit — JERRY   down  L.;    BENFIELD   left   of   the 
table;  GOODKIND  back  of  it;  STEDTMAN  R.] 

GOODKIND 
Well? 

STEDTMAN 

Well  .  .  .  the  committee's  on  its  way. 

GOODKIND 
Who's  in  this  delegation? 

STEDTMAN 
I'm  chairman.  We  got  a  Pole  called  Umanski. 

GOODKIND 

[Writes]: 

Umanski. 


66  THE  FOOL 

STEDTMAN 

He's  a  radical.  You  can't  do  anything  with  him. 
But  there's  a  fellow  named  Joe  Hennig  .  .  . 

GOODKIND 
Who'll  listen  to  reason? 

STEDTMAN 
I  think  so. 

GOODKIND 
Why? 

STEDTMAN 

He's  got  a  pretty  wife. 

BENFIELD 
What  the  he— 

GOODKIND 

What  has  that  to  do  with  it? 

STEDTMAN 

Lots.  Pretty  wives  like  pretty  things.  Hennig's  in 
debt,  and  this  girl's  on  his  neck  every  minute.  She's 
a  peach.  You  know  her,  Mr.  Jerry  I 

JERRY 
No. 

STEDTMAN 
Pearl  Hennig? 

JERRY 
No. 

STEDTMAN 

Oh !  I  thought  I  saw  you  talking  to  her  onct.  Any 
how,  Gilchrist  knows  her  .  .  .  well. 


THE  FOOL  6T 

BENFIELD 
You  mean  .  .  . 

STEDTMAN 

I  mean  I  wouldn't  mention  Gilchrist  to  Joe  Hennig. 
[BENFIELD  whistles.] 

GOODZIND 
That's  rot! 

STEDTMAN 

Anyhow,  Hennig  and  me  are  two  votes,  and  I  figure 
HennigVll  cost  about  .  .  . 

[He  looks  at  them  narrowly.] 
.  .  .  fifteen  thousand  dollars. 

[All  three  show  surprise.] 

GOODKIND 
I  don't  like  bribery. 

BENFIELD 
Not  when  it  isn't  necessary. 

GOODKIND 
And  Gilchrist  wired  yesterday:  "Everything  settled." 

JEEEY 
On  conditions. 

STEDTMAN 

Yeh — on  their  conditions!     Take  it  from  me,  this 
Gilchrist  has  double-crossed  you ! 

BENFIELD 
I  told  you ! 

JEEEY 
He's  a  .  . 


68  THE  FOOL 

STEDTMAN 
[Goes    right    on,    without   heeding    the   simultaneous 

interruption]  : 

He's  been  at  union  meetings!  He  got  'em  to  send 
this  delegation,  and  he  tried  to  get  'em  to  turn  down 
Hennig — our  one  best  bet !  You  take  it  from  me — 

GOODKIND 

[Quietly] :  I  won't  take  it  from  you,  Stedtman. 
[Looks  around]  Or  from  anybody  else.  I  know  this 
man. 

STEDTMAN 

[Cowed] :  Well,  he's  gone  around  talkin'  compro 
mise.  Compromise  ain't  no  way  to  settle  a  strike. 
Givin'  'em  confidence.  Why,  we  got  a  couple  o'  hun 
dred  representatives  among  the  workmen  tellin'  'em 
they  got  no  chance.  We  got  special  police  clubbin'  'em 
every  time  they  try  to  hold  a  meeting.  You  wouldn't 
believe  what  we  done  down  there  in  the  way  of  harmony ! 

GOODKIND 
It's  all  been  done  before. 

STEDTMAN 

Never  no  completer!  We're  workin*  the  black  list 
and,  if  a  man  opens  his  mouth  too  wide  at  a  meetin', 
somebody — he  don't  know  who — tips  the  gover'ment 
that  he's  a  "red."  We  got  'em  so  they  ain't  sure  of 
their  own  brothers.  We're  postin'  bills,  in  seven  lan 
guages,  saying:  "Why  should  workmen  mistrust  the 
company?  This  is  the  land  of  opportunity!  America 


THE  FOOL  69 

is  calling  you— GO  BACK  TO  WORK !"  The  boss  has 
a  scheme  now  to  start  a  riot  between  the  Poles  and 
the  Wops !  And  you  know  the  end  o'  that !  Troops, 
and  scabs,  and  machine  guns !  What  stopped  it?  One 
gent  that  don't  know  nothin'  about  harmony,  or  co 
operation,  or  nothin* — except  hangin'  around  after  a 
skirt!  If  you  got  to  descend  to  bribery  now,  don't 
blame  me !  Blame  Gilchrist  I 

BENFIELD 

[Rises;  striking  the  table  with  his  open  hand]:  He's 
absolutely  right! 

JERRY 

[Rises'] :     Of  course,  he's  right !    Wha'd'ya  expect 
of  a  man  kicked  out  of  his  church  for  Bolshevism? 

BENFIELD 
He  ought  to  be  brought  back  right  now  I 

GOODKIND 
He's  coming  back — 

[Servant  enters  Rt] 

Yes;  what  is  it? 

SERVANT 

Two  men  to  see  Mr.  Stedtman. 

BENFIELD 
Good! 

GOODKIND 
Bring  them  in. 

[Servant  exits] 


70  THE  FOOL 

STEDTMAN 

Now  look — don't  try  nothin*  before  Umanski !  Just 
give  us  an  excuse  to  vote  right,  and  then  we'll  go  out, 
and  get  rid  of  him,  and  I'll  slip  back  with  Hennig! 
Now  then —  [His  sharp  ears  have  heard  footsteps  off 
R.  He  strikes  a  pose]  It's  very  good  of  you  gentle 
men  to  see  us !  I  was  goin'  to  meet  my  friends  outside — 
[The  Servant  ushers  in  UMANSKI  and  JOE  HENNIG,  and 
retires] — but  you  been  so  kind  and  agreeable —  Hello, 
Joe! 

JOE 
Hello,  Max! 

UMANSKI 

You  said  you  be  on  sidewalk. 

STEDTMAN 

I  just  really  got  in  myself.    This  is  Mr.  Goodkind. 

He's  the  President.    And  a  couple  o'  Directors.    Well, 

now  we  can  get  down  to  business ! 

[He  sits.  UMANSKI  stares  m  amazement  at  Ms  temerity. 
UMANSKI  is  a  giant  Pole  or  Russian.  Whatever 
flesh  he  ever  had  has  been  starved  off;  he  is  all 
bone  and  brawn.  In  his  face  is  something  strangely 
like  poetry  .  .  .  something  born  of  silence  and 
suffering.  He  is  in  his  best,  which  does  not  ob 
literate  the  picture  of  the  man  in  working  clothes, 
his  sleeves  rolled  up  over  his  muscular  arms.  Hen- 
nig  is  a  stocky  man  of  45 — a  "grouser."  His  tone 
has  none  of  the  courage,  the  dignity,  the  inde 
pendence  of  UMANSKI'S;  he  blusters,  emptily,  an 


THE  FOOL  71 

echo,  without  much  to  say,  and  one  guesses  he 
might  be  made  to  bluster  either  way.  There  is  a 
pause. 1 

GOODKIND 

Smoke?  [He  presents  the  humidor  to  HENNIG,  and 
STEDTMAN,  rising,  reaches  out  and  helps  himself. 
GOODKIND  goes  on  to  UMANSKI,  who  doesn't  unfold  his 
arms;  doesn't  even  appear  to  see  the  box.  GOODKIND 
returns,  and  sets  it  lower  right  end  of  table.] 

JOE 

[Coming  down  R.  of  GOODKIND]  :  I  guess  you  know 
ail  about  our  grievances. 

GOODKIND 
I  didn't  know  you  had  any. 

JOE 
You  didnt  know  we  had  any— 

BENFIELD 
Ah,  you  fellows  are  never  satisfied! 

GOODKIND 

You're  getting  plenty  for  what  you  do !  What  are 
you  complaining  about?  You've  left  good  jobs  to  fol 
low  a  lot  of  idle,  discontented  agitators  !  We've  got  to 
win  this  fight  on  principle!  The  work's  there!  I  pay 
what  I  can  get  men  for,  and  not  a  cent  more !  Take  it 
or  leave  it ! 

JOB 
We  got  to  hang  together  to  get  anything! 


72  THE  FOOL 

GOODKIND 

You're  hanging,  and  what  have  you  got? 
[The  piano  music  in  the  next  room,  which  ceased  during 
the  scene  with  STEDTMAN,  is  succeeded  now  by  the 
low  tones  of  a  violin.    UMANSKI  speaks,  in  a  voice 
as  unemotional  as  its  owner  is  stolid."] 

UMANSKI 

I  work  twelve  hours — every  day  .  „  .  thirty  years 
.  .  .  got  nothing. 

BENFIELD 
Why  should  you  have?    An  untrained  man — 

JERRY 
You  don't  even  know  English! 

UMANSKI 

How  I  gonna  learn  English — work  twelve  hours  a 
day? 

JERRY 

Nobody  asked  you  to  take  the  job!    Nobody  asked 
you  to  come  over  here !    You're  not  an  American ! 

UMANSKI 
I  was  American. 

JERRY 
[Sneers]:    When? 

UMANSKI 
When  I  fight  ...  in  the  war.     [A  short  pause.] 


THE  FOOL  73 

JEEEY 

[Turning  to  Goodkind] :  We're  not  getting  any 
where.  We've  been  over  this  a  dozen  times ! 

GOODKIND 
What  do  you  want? 

UMANSKI 

I  wanna  chance  to  learn!  I  wanna  chance  to  live! 
I  wanna  see  ...  sun! 

JEEEY 

Wha'd'ya  mean — son? 

[Together} 

GOODKIND 
Your  son? 

UMANSKI 

God's  sun.  I  never  see  him.  Go  to  mines — him  not 
up.  Work  in  mines — him  not  see.  Go  home — him 
gone.  Got  baby  five  years  ago.  Never  see  him.  Go 
to  mines  .  .  .  him  not  up.  Come  back — him  asleep. 
Go  home  one  day — him  gone. 

GOODKIND 
Dead? 

UMANSKI 

My  wife  say :  "Good !    Not  such  many  to  feed !" 

JEEEY 
When  you  worked  you  had  enough  to  eat,  didn't  you? 

UMANSKI 
Yes.    Work  twelve  hours  a  day  and  got  enough  to 


74  THE  FOOL 

eat — so  can  work  some  more.  Always  work.  Get  up — 
work — come  back — sleep — get  up — work.  Never  got 
time  to  talk  to  wife — never  got  time  to  talk  to  nobody 
— never  got  nowhere.  Never  save  nothing. 

JOE 

[Whining]:  It  ain't  fair!  [JERRY  takes  out  his 
cigarette  case.] 

UMANSKI 

That  little  box — what  you  pay  for  him?  [Jerry 
turns  front,  not  deigning  to  answer]  Ah,  I  know; 
gold.  You  pay  more  for  him  than  I  got  from  swing  pick 
thirty  years.  Me  and  six  families — we  live  in  one  house 
you  own.  We  got  one  room  upstairs ;  two  down  cellar. 
Sleep  there.  Eat — cook — wash  upstairs.  See  nothing 
but  brick  yard,  and  clothes  hang  up  to  dry.  Wife — 
she  carry  water  from  yard.  Me — I  carry  potato  peel 
ing  out  front.  Him  rot.  If  I  don't  like  that,  I  quit — 
and  starve ! 

JERRY 

You  want  to  live  on  Fifth  Avenue ! 

BENFIELD 
And  then  you'd  find  something  to  kick  about ! 

UMANSKI 

If  I  don't  like  other  mans  will.  Other  mans  take  my 
job.  I  got  little  girl  twenty  years  old.  Awful  nice 
little  girl.  Got  gold  hair.  Got  blue  eyes.  Her  take 
sick.  She  sorry  she's  sick.  She  wanna  go  church.  She 
ask  me:  "Pop,  buy  me  new  dress  for  church.  Buy  me 


THE  FOOL  75 

pretty  pink  dress."  Where  I  get  him?  We  hire  doctor 
once,  and  he  say:  "Air — sunshine — milk — eggs!" 
Where  I  get  air — sunshine — milk — eggs?  Got  no  job. 
My  little  girl,  she  cough,  and  cough,  and  one  night  she 
die.  I  tell  you  we  got  right  to  quit !  We  got  right  to 
hang  together!  We  got  right  to  fight — to  live — and, 
by  God,  we  gonna  fight — we  gonna  live — we  gonna — 
BY  GOD! 

[The  music  stops.  In  the  same  short  instant,  there  is 
a  patter  of  applause;  more  music — lively  this  time 
— and,  bursting  into  the  room  from  L.,  DILLY  runs 
into  UMANSKI.  She  has  gold  hair;  she  has  "blue 
eyes;  and  what  is  more,  she  has  a  new  dress.  It 
is  a  "pretty  pink  dress,"  too,  and  its  owner  wears 
jewels  worth  the  ransom  of  a  dozen  Umanskis,] 

DILLY 

[As  she  enters]  :  Now,  look  here,  Jerry;  you're  not 
going  to —  Oh!  Fm  sorry!  [UMANSKI  looks  at  her; 
then  covers  his  face,  and,  with  a  great  sob,  drops  into 
a  chair  R.  C.  STEDTMAN  puts  his  arm  about  the  man's 
shoulders.  GOODKIND,  C.,  stares  at  him  sympatheti 
cally.] 

JEEEY 

You'll  have  to  wait,  Dilly. 

GOODKIND 

Ask  the  ladies  to  stay  in  the  drawing  room.  We'll 
join  them  in  a  few  minutes. 

DILLY 

Yes.  .  .  .  Certainly.  .  .  .  Pm  SO  sorry ! 


76  THE  FOOL 

[She  exits.  A  pause.  STEDTMAN,  one  arm  about 
UMANSKI,  uses  the  other  to  signal  GOODKIND  to  go 
ahead.  GOODKIND  ignores  him."] 

GOODKIND 
I  think  we'd  better  let  this  go  for  tonight. 

UMANSKI 
[Rising]  :  Oh,  no !     Me — I'm  all  right !    Excuse ! 

GOODKIND 

You're  a  little  upset,  and  I  have  guests.  Besides, 
Gilchrist  will  be  here  in  half  an  hour,  and  I  want  to 
talk  to  him  before  I  say  anything  definite.  Suppose 
we  all  meet  here  tomorrow  at  noon. 

JOE 

[Who  has  turned  down  angrily  at  mention  of  the 
name]  :  Not  Gilchrist ! 

GOODKIND 

No;  just  we  six  .  .  .  and,  maybe,  one  or  two  more 
of  our  directors. 

STEDTMAN 
All  right! 

UMANSKI 

I  wanna  know  what  we  gonna  do — tonight! 
GOODKIND 

We're  going  to  get  together.  You  fellows  have  got 
the  wrong  idea.  We're  not  tyrants,  or  monsters. 
We're  Christians,  and  we  want  to  act  like  Christians. 
Only  ...  we've  got  to  live,  too.  We've  got  to  have 


THE  FOOL  77 

the  things  we're  used  to,  just  as  you  have.  But  I  think 
I  can  promise,  if  the  strike's  called  off,  you  men  will  be 
kept,  and  put  back  just  where  you  were.  .  .  .  Ring 
the  bell,  Jerry. 

[JEEEY  does  so.     A  pause.] 

BENFIELD 
I  guess  you  don't  want  me  any  more. 

GOODKIND 
No. 

BENFIELD 
Thanks, 

[Exits  L.    A  pause.] 

GOODKIND 

[To  HENNIG.  Makmg  conversation] :  You  live  in 
Black  River? 

JOE 
Yes. 

GOODKIND 

Married? 

JOE 

You  betcha!  Prettiest  girl  in  West  Virginia!  We 
only  been  married  a  year.  I  got  her  in  the  five-and- 
ten-cent  store.  ...  I  mean,  that's  where  she  was  work 
ing.  She's  at  her  sister's  now  ...  up  to  Pittsburg. 
Left  the  day  before  I  was  elected  to  come  here. 
[Proudly]  I  sent  her  a  telegram ! 

GOODKIND 

You  don't  say  so !  [To  JERRY]  Anything  the  mat 
ter  with  that  bell? 


78  THE  FOOL 

JERRY 
The  man's  busy,  I  suppose.     I'll  show  them  out. 

GOODKIND 

If  you  will.  .  .  .  Well,  good-night! 
[He  shakes  "hands  with  HENNIG,  and  with  STEDTMAN, 
but,  when  he  comes  to  UMANSKI,  that  giant  is  im 
mobile.    His  slow  mind  has  been  thinking  out  the 
earlier  declaration.] 

UMANSKI 
What  about  this  here  twelve-hour  day? 

GOODKIND 
We'll  consider  that  after  the  strike's  called  off. 

UMANBKI 

And  the  twenty-four-hour  shift? 

GOODKIND 

We'll  consider  that,  too.     Meanwhile — you  go  back 
just  where  you  were! 

UMANSKI 

Then  what  good  we  gain  by  strike? 

GOODKIND 

Nothing's   ever  gained  by  quarreling.     You'll  find 
that  out  some  day. 

UMANSKI 

Some  day  something  be  gain!     Some  day  we  gonna 
win !    This — he  don't  go  on  always !     You  see ! 


THE  FOOL  79 

JEEEY 
{Insolently'] :  Are  you  ready? 

UMANSKI 

[As  HENNIG  slips  out  R.,  UMANSKI  looks  at  JEERY 
with  contempt.]  You  see !  [Exits  R.] 

STEDTMAN 

[Significantly, — in  a  loud  whisper] :  We'll  be  back 
later.  [He  exits  R.] 

JEEEY 
Swine! 

[He  exits  R.  GOODKIND,  obviously  worried  by  the  in 
terview,  goes  to  the  table,  and  rights  the  topmost 
paper.  Looks  at  it.  Sits,  and  examines  other 
papers.  The  SEEVANT  enters  R.] 

SEEVANT 
Did  you  ring,  sir? 

GOODKIND 
Half  an  hour  ago. 

SEEVANT 

[Indicating  a  box]  :  I  was  signing  for  this.  [GOOD- 
KIND,  writing,  doesn't  look  up.]  Can  I  do  anything  for 
you,  sir? 

GOODKIND 

Yes.  .  .  .  Get  me  a  drink. 

[The  SEEVANT  hesitates.  GOODKIND  takes  key  from 
pocket  and  gives  it  to  him.  The  SEEVANT  unlocks 
a  cellarette,  up  R,9  takes  out  decanter  and  glasses, 


80  THE  FOOL 

relocJcs  the  cellarette,  comes  down  L.  of  table,  sets 

down  the  tray,  and  returns  the  key.] 
Thanks.     [The  SEEVANT  starts  to  exit  L.]     And, 
Riggs!       [The    SERVANT    stops    up    L.    C.      Enter 
CLARE  L.~\    If  Mr.  Stedtman  comes  back  to-night  .  .  . 
with  one  of  the  other  men  .  .  .  I'll  see  them  in  here. 

SERVANT 

Very  good,  sir.  [To  CLARE]:  This  package  just 
came  for  you,  Madam.  [He  gives  her  the  box,  and 
exits  L.  A  pause.'] 

GOODKIND 
Everybody  gone? 

CLARE 

They're  all  down  in  the  billiard  room.  We  wanted 
to  make  up  a  couple  of  tables  at  bridge,  but,  with  the 
men  in  here  ...  as  usual.  .  .  .  Where's  Jerry? 

GOODKIND 
I  don't  know. 

CLARE 
I've  seen  him  just  ten  minutes  this  week* 

GOODKIND 
He's  only  been  back  three  hours. 

CLARE 

Well  ...  I  wish  he  wouldn't  break  up  my  dinner 
parties. 

GOODKIND 
[Pushes  back  papers']  :  What  have  you  got  there? 


THE  FOOL  81 

CLAEE 
[Looking  at  the  box]  :  Another  .  .  .  substitute  ,  .  . 

GOODKIND 
Substitute,  for  what? 

CLARE 

[As  she  opens  it]  :  For  my  husband's  time  .  .  .  and 
love  .  .  .  and  companionship.  [Holds  up  a  sable 
scarf]  Sables.  [She  gives  it  to  GOODKIND.] 

GOODKIND 

[Looking  at  it  with  admiration] :  Mm !  You  don't 
seem  much  surprised. 

CLAEE 

No.  .  .  .  Whenever  Jerry's  been  away  longer  than 
usual,  or  done  something  he's  a  little  ashamed  of, 
there's  a  box  from  Cartier  or  Revillon. 

GOODKIND 
Must  have  been  a  whopper  this  time! 

CLAEE 

[Seriously.  Wondering] :  Yes.  [She  takes  the 
scarf.] 

GOODKIND 

Pretty  generous  husband  ...  if  you  ask  me! 

CLAEE 
Yes.     [She  puts  the  scarf  away.] 


83  THE  FOOL 

GOODKIND 

Upon  my  word,  I  don't  know  what  you  women  want ! 
...  A  man  works  his  heart  and  soul  out  to  get  you 
things,  and  still  you're  not  satisfied! 

CLARE 
Maybe  we'd  like  a  little  "heart  and  soul." 

GOODKIND 

Heart  and  soul,  and  what  a  man  trades  *em  for! 
You  want  your  husband  to  succeed,  and  give  all  his 
attention  to  you!  You  want  him  to  have  plenty  of 
money,  and  plenty  of  time!  You're  willing  to  take 
everything,  but  you're  not  willing  to  pay  for  it! 

CLARE 
I  suppose  everybody  must  pay. 

GOODKIND 

Surest  thing  you  know!  You  women  are  all  alike. 
My  poor  wife — she  had  everything,  and  I  used  to  catch 
her  crying  in  a  corner.  We  never  seemed  to  understand 
each  other  .  .  .  after  we  got  this.  She  was  a  good 
wife,  too,  but  the  best  of  you  never  seem  to  want  what 
you  have.  .  .  .  Sometimes  I  think  we  don't  any  of  us 
really  want  what  we  struggle  so  hard  to  get.  Some 
times  I  think  we're  all  wrong !  [He  looks  at  his  watch, 
and  rises.']  Well,  I  guess  I'll  go  downstairs ! 

CLARE 
I  wish  you  would. 


THE  FOOL  88 

GOODKIND 

[Goes  to  her]  :  You're  not  crying?  [She  nods  and 
looks  up]  My  God!  Can  you  beat  it? 

CLARE 
I'll  be  down  in  a  minute. 

GOODKIND 

Tell  Riggs — will  you? — if  any  one  comes,  I'll  be 
.  .  .  talking  to  Jerry.  [He  puts  his  hand  on  her  shoul 
der"]  And  .  .  .  buck  up !  There  are  people  worse  off 
than  we  are  .  .  .  and  it's  a  great  life  if  you  don't 
weaken ! 

[He  exits  L.  CLARE  goes  C.  She  puts  the  box,  with 
its  contents,  on  the  table,  dries  her  eyes,  and  is 
powdering  her  nose  when  DANIEL  GILCHRIST  opens 
the  door  R.  He  is  in  business  clothes,  and  starts 
to  retire  when  he  sees  CLARE.  He  would  a  little 
rather  avoid  the  interview.] 

CLARE 

Come  in!  I'm  just  powdering  my  nose.  Does  that 
offend  your  reverence? 

DANIEL 

On  the  contrary;  I  agree  with  the  man  who  said, 
"Put  your  trust  in  God,  and  keep  your  powder  dry." 
[They  laugh.] 

CLARE 

When  did  you  get  in  ? 

DANIEL 
Half  an  hour  ago. 


84  THE  FOOL 

CLAEE 
Had  dinner? 

DANIEL 

On  the  train.  I  was  starved.  Thank  goodness,  they 
don't  charge  for  dinner  by  the  mile!  .  .  .  Riggs  said 
your  father-in-law  was  in  here. 

CLAEE 

He'll  be  up  in  a  moment  .  .  .  won't  you  sit  down? 
We  haven't  had  five  minutes  together  since 

DANIEL 
[Hesitates  about  remammg,~\ 

CLAEE 

I  understand  you're  very  happy  in  your  new  .  .  , 
profession. 

DANIEL 
[Sits.]     Yes. 

CLAEE 

You've  got  .  .  .  everything  .  .  .  you  want? 

DANIEL 
No,  I  haven't  everything  I  want,  but  I'm  happy. 

CLAEE 

My  father-in-law  says  if  you  settle  this  strike  you're 
to  be — but  that's  a  business  secret.  [A  pause]  I  sup 
pose  I  might  tell  you.  [A  pause]  He  says  it'll  make 
you  a  big  man  in  the  company  .  .  .  with  a  tremendous 
salary.  .  .  .  You  mustn't  give  it  away! 

DANIEL 

The  secret? 


THE  FOOL  85 

CLARE 

The  salary  ...  I  suppose  you've  got  over  that  .  .  . 
So  ...  you  don't  really  seem  to  have  lost  anything 
by  giving  up  your  church. 

DANIEL 

No.  Queer  as  it  seems,  sometimes  I  think  I've  gained 
...  in  opportunity. 

CLARE 

[Chiefly  to  herself]  :  Perhaps  one  might  have  eaten 
one's  cake  and  had  it,  too. 

DANIEL 
Clare! 

CLARE 

You  frightened  me  so  that  night,  with  the  bugaboo 
of  poverty.  Don't  you  think  there  might  have  been  a 
compromise?  Something  half  way? 

DANIEL 
Why  open  wounds  that  are  beginning  to  heal? 

CLARE 
Yours  seem  quite  healed. 

DANIEL 
And  you  have  everything  yoii  want? 

CLARE 
Yes. 

DANIEL 

You  see  ...  I  was  selfish  ...  to  ask  you  to  give 


86  THE  FOOL 

up  the  things  that  count  so  much  with  you  for  those 
that  count  with  me,  .  .  .  Afterward,  when  I  knew  you 
were  to  be  married.  ...  I  was  afraid  for  you  .  .  . 
and  I  was  wrong  again.  [He  rises]  You're  happy 
.  .  .  and  Fm  honestly  glad ! 

CLARE 
Are  you  .  .  .  honestly  .  .  .  happy? 

DANIEL 

Honestly. 

CLARE 

In  just  helping  others? 

DANIEL 

In  just  helping  others. 

CLARE 
I  don't  understand  that. 

DANIEL 

You  will  .  .  .  some  day. 

[JERRY  enters  R.  He  has  added  two  or  three  brandies 
to  a  generous  allowance  at  dinner,  and  though  not 
drtwk,  is  sullen  and  quarrelsome.  The  more  to 
at  finding  DANIEL  with  CLARE]. 

JERRY 

Hello,  Gilchrist!    In  early,  aren't  you?     [Crosses.] 
I  didn't  mean  to  interrupt  a  tete-a-tete! 

CLARE 
You're  not  interrupting. 


THE  FOOL  87 

JERRY 
Where's  father? 

CLARE 

I  thought  he  was  with  you. 

JERRY 
I  stopped  for  refreshments. 

CLARE 
I  see  you  did. 

JERRY 

[Laughs  and  turns  to  DANIEL]  :  We've  been  having 
a  genial  evening  with  your  delegation.  That's  why  my 

wife's  sore. 

CLARE 

I'm  not  "sore."    I've  been  a  little  lonely. 

JERRY 

You  don't  look  it!  ...  I  couldn't  help  going  to 
Black  River!  I  didn't  go  for  pleasure  .  .  .  did  I, 
Gilchrist? 

DANIEL 

No.  There  was  work,  and  plenty  of  it.  I  was 
sorry  you  had  to  leave  "when  you  did. 

CLARE 
Why,  Jerry  didn't  leave  much  before  you,  did  he? 

JERRY 

Just  a  few 

DANIEL 

[At  the  same  t%me\ :  Only  twenty-four  hours.  .  .  . 
He  wanted  to  get  back  to  you. 


88  THE  FOOL 

CLARE 

But  .  .  .  he's  just  got  back.  .  .  .  Where  have  you 
been,  Jerry? 

JERRY 
Attending  to  business  ...  of  course! 

CLARE 

Of  course.    [She  takes  the  scarf  from  the  box  on  the 
table]  Good  night,  Dan. 

DANIEL 

[Cheerily']  :    Good  night!     [She  starts  to  door  L.]. 

JERRY 
Oh  ...  you  got  the  furs ! 

CLARE 
Yes  .  .  .  thank  you. 

JERRY 
Don't  mention  it! 

CLARE 
I'm  very  grateful  .  .  .  but  .  .  . 

JERRY 
But  what? 

CLARE 
Never  mind.  We'll  talk  about  it  some  other  time. 

JERRY 
We'll  talk  about  it  now! 


THE  FOOL  89 

DANIEL 
Fllgo.     [Starts  R.]. 

JEEEY 

No,  you  won't  !  You  made  a  crack  about  my  leaving 
twenty-four  hours  before  you  did  !  How  do  you  know 
when  I  left?  [To  CLAEE]  If  that's  what  you're  sore 
about,  for  heaven's  sake,  drop  it!  I'm  sorry  you've 
been  alone,  and  I've  sent  you  a  handsome  gift  as  an 
apology  ! 

CLAEE 

I  don't  want  it.  [She  lays  down  the  scarf.  ]  I  don't 
want  to  be  paid  for  shutting  my  eyes  to  any  insulting 
thing  you  choose  to  do  ! 


And  I  don't  propose  to  be  made  a  blackguard  be 
fore  strangers! 

CLAEE 

Dan  isn't  a  stranger.  And  I  don't  want  to  make  you 
a  blackguard.  Only  .  .  .  since  you've  insisted  on  the 
truth  .  .  .  Dan,  when  did  my  husband  leave  Black 
River? 

DANIEL 
I  haven't  seen  him  since  Thursday. 

JEEEY 

There  you  have  it  !  He  hasn't  seen  me  since  Thurs 
day  !  Does  it  occur  to  you  that  may  have  been  because 
he  wasn't  in  Black  River? 

CLAEE 
No. 


90  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  wasn't. 

JERRY 
Oh!  .  »  »  Where  were  you? 

DANIEL 
At  the  mines. 

CLARE 
Is  that  the  truth? 

JERRY 

Of  course  it's  the  truth !  And,  if  it  wasn't,  I  don't 
see  that  you've  any  right  to  ask  questions !  I  haven't 
done  anything  that  'wasn't  in  the  bargain !  I  haven't 
done  anything  every  man  doesn't  do! 

CLARE 
Every  man  .  .  .  perhaps  .  .  .  but  one! 

JERRY 

Gilchrist!  My  God!  Now  we've  got  it!  If  you'd 
only  married  him !  He's  good,  because  he  says  so !  You 
ought  to've  been  here  a  minute  ago  .  .  .  when  the 
company  detective  warned  us  not  to  mention  Gilchrist 
to  Joe  Hennig! 

DANIEL 

You  mean 

JERRY 

I  mean  Pearl  Hennig ! 

DANIEL 

Pearl  Hennig?  Why,  you — you  know  that's  not 
true! 


THE  FOOL  91 

CLARE 
/  know  it's  not  true ! 

JERRY 
Do  you? 

STEDTMAN 

[Off  J?.] :   Say  .  .  .  now  .  .  .  listen  .  .  .  you  behave 
yourself ! 

JOB 

[Off  R.I:  Behave  .  .  .  hell! 

JERRY 

[Continuing  above   these  voices'] :    Ask  Stedtman ! 
Ask  Hennig!     And  before  you  make  up  your  mind 

where  /  was  yesterday,  ask  where  he  was 

[Enter  STEDTMAN  and  HENNIG,  followed  by  the  SER 
VANT.  There  is  no  dead  cue  for  this  entrance. 
They  come  on — STEDTMAN  trying  to  hold  back 
HENNIG — flinging  open  the  door  as  HENNIG  says 
"Hell!"  HENNIG  confronts  GILCHRIST.] 

JOE 
You — Gilchrist!    Where've  you  got  my  wife? 

DANIEL 
I  haven't  got  your  wife,  Hennig. 

JOE 

The  hell  you  haven't ! 

DANIEL 
You'd  better  go,  Clare. 


92  THE  FOOL 

JERRY 

I  want  her  to  stay.  [To  the  SERVANT]  All  right! 
[The  SERVANT  exits']  What's  it  all  about,  Stedtman? 

STEDTMAN 

You  can  search  me!  Umanski  stuck  to  us  all  the 
way  home.  When  he  left,  I  went  in  to  have  a  little 
talk  with  Joe  .  .  .  alone.  .  .  .  See?  There  was  a 
telegram,  and  he  read  it,  and 

JOE 
And  came  here  to  ask  Gilchrist:   Where's  my  wife? 

DANIEL 
She  told  me  she  was  going  to  her  sister's. 

JOE 

She  ain't  never  been  near  her  sister,  and  you  know 
it !  I  just  got  this  from  her  sister !  [Holds  out  wire. 
JERRY  snatches  it.~\  Read  it! 

JERRY 

[Reading] :  Pearl  ain't  here.  We  ain't  seen  her. 
Ain't  she  home? 

DANIEL 

Maybe  she  is. 

JOE 

You  know  she  ain't!  And  what  if  she  is  ,  ,  .  now? 
I  don't  want  your  leavings ! 

DANIEL 
Why  do  you  say  that,  Hennig? 


THE  FOOL  93 

JOB 

Why  do  I  say  it?  Ain't  I  seen  you  down  town  with 
her?  Ain't  I  found  you  with  her  when  I  came  home 
unexpected?  I  knew  you  was  stuck  on  her,  and  I 
warned  you  to  stay  away  .  .  .  didn't  I? 

DANIEL 
You  were  mistaken. 

JOE 
Didn't  I  warn  you? 

DANIEL 
Yes. 

JOE 

And  you  came  again  .  .  .  didn't  you? 

DANIEL 

Yes. 

JERRY 
Every  man  but  one ! 

DANIEL 

I  went  first  on  your  account  .  .  .  because  they  told 
me  you  were  in  debt  .  .  .  and  why.  I  "came  again"  be 
cause  she  asked  me  to.  This  disappearance  looks 
queer,  I  admit,  but  people  do  get  lost,  or  hurt,  and 
taken  to  hospitals,  and  aren't  identified. 

JOE 
[Half  convinced]  :   You  think > 

DANIEL 

I  think  your  wife's  all  right,  Joe.  I  don't  think  you 
ought  to  accuse  her  publicly  until  you're  sure  she's  not. 


94.  THE  FOOL 

JOB 
[Crfe*]  :   How'm  I  gonna  be  sure? 

DANIEL 

Suppose  we  ask  the  police  to  look  for  her? 

JERRY 

[Turning  quickly] :  What's  the  use  of  starting  a 
hulla-ba-loo  ?  You  don't  want  the  woman  accused  pub 
licly,  but  you're  willing  to  spread  the  news  so  this 
man'll  be  ashamed  to  go  back  home.  We  all  know  the 
facts  in  the  case,  and  the  least  said  about  it  now  the 
better.  [To  JOE]  You've  found  her  out.  Let  her  go 
.  .  .  and  forget  it! 

CLARE 

I  don't  think  he  ought  to  forget  it. 

JERRY 
No? 

CLARE 

No.  I  don't  think  he  ought  to  drop  it  now  .  .  . 
until  we  all  know  the  truth. 

DANIEL 
Right ! 

JOE 

I  want  to  know  the  truth !  I  got  to !  I  been  crazy 
about  her !  Maybe  that's  a  good  idea  .  .  .  the  police. 
I  got  to  know  the  truth! 

JERRY 

[At  bay]:  All  right!  Stedtman!  Where  were  you 
yesterday? 


THE  FOOL  96 

STEDTMAN 
At  the  mines. 

JERRY 

What  part  of  the  mines? 

STEDTMAN 
All  over. 

JERRY 

Did  you  see  Gilchrist? 

STEDTMAN 
No. 

[DANIEL  never  takes  Ms  eyes  off  CLARE.  He  watches 
her,  as  the  net  tightens  around  him,  observing, 
with  ever-increasing  agony,  that  he  is  convicted  in 
her  eyes.'] 

JERRY 

When  did  you  see  him  last  ? 

STEDTMAN 
Thursday Yes,  it  was  Thursday. 

JERRY 
Where? 

STEDTMAN 
In  Black  River. 

JERRY 
Alone? 

STEDTMAN 
No. 

JERRY 
With  whom? 

STEDTMAN 
With  Mrs.  Hennig. 


96  THE  FOOL 

JOE 
I  knew  it !    I'm  gonna  kill  you ! 

JERRY 

No,  you're  not.  You're  going  to  keep  quiet.  But 
you  wanted  the  truth,  and  you've  got  it.  I've  known 
it  all  along.  [To  CLARE]  Now  do  you  think  I  was 
lying? 

CLARE 

I  don't  know.    I  don't  understand. 

JERRY 
Oh,  yes,  you  do  ...  only  you  won't  admit  it ! 

CLARE 

I  suppose  that's  it. 
[She  takes  her  scarf  and  starts  wearily  to  extt  L.] 

DANIEL 

Clare!  [She  stops]  I  don't  care  what  anyone  be 
lieves  but  you! 

CLARE 

[Turns'] :  I'll  believe  you,  Dan,  if  you'll  only  ex 
plain. 

DANIEL 
j 

JERRY 
I  forbid  you  to  speak  to  my  wife! 

CLARE 
Go  on,  Dan. 

JERRY 
I  forbid  you  to  speak  to  my  wife! 


THE  FOOL  97 

DANIEL 

[Exploding  .  .  .  to  JEEEY]  :  If  I  hadn't  anybody 
to  think  about  but  you! 

[They  stare  at  each  other  .  .  .  close  together.  Sud 
denly,  JEEEY  lifts  his  open  hand,  and  strikes  DAN 
across  the  mouth.  DAN  starts  to  retaliate,  but 
controls  himself,  opens  his  clinched  hands,  and 
lowers  his  head.~\ 

CLAEE 

[In  almost  speechless  amazement"]  :  Dan;  you're  not 
going  to  take  that? 

DANIEL 

I  have  nothing  to  say. 

CLAEE 

I  didn't  think  you  were  a  coward.  You  see,  I  was 
wrong  about  everything. 

[The  scarf  in  her  hand,  she  exits  L.  A  short  pau$e. 
Suddenly,  JOE,  emboldened  by  what  he  has  wit 
nessed,  certain  of  DAN'S  cowardice,  breaks  from 
STEDTMAN  and  rushes  at  GILCHEIST.] 

JOE 

You'll  play  around  my  wife,  will  you?  [DANIEL 
merely  looks  at  him.]  You  will  .  .  .  will  you?  .  .  . 
Take  that !  [He  strikes  out.  DANIEL  seizes  his  wrist, 
and,  with  one  powerful,  dexterous  movement,  hurls  him 
to  the  floor], 

DANIEL 

[As  HENNIG  struggles  to  his  feet] :  I  hope  I  didn't 
hurt  you,  Joe. 


98  THE  FOOL 

STEDTMAN 
[Looks  from  DANIEL  to  JERRY]  :  My  God ! 

JOE 

[Retreating]  :  Don't  worry !  I'll  get  you!  It  may 
be  a  long  time,  but  I'll  get  you!  [He  exits.] 

DANIEL 

[With  great  kindness]:  Take  him  home,  Stedtman. 
[STEDTMAN  looks  to  JERRY,  who  jerks  his  head  toward 
the  door.'} 

STEDTMAN 

Good-night,  Mr.  Jerry.  Tell  your  father  we'll  be 
around  .  .  .  [DANIEL  turns  and  looks  at  him.  He 
backs  toward  the  door.~\  ...  in  ...  the  .  .  .  morn 
ing! 

[Quick  exit.  He  closes  the  door9  which  has  been  left 
open  by  HENNIG.  The  two  men  look  at  each  other. 
JERRY  goes  to  upper  left  of  table,  and  pours  him 
self  a  drink.] 

JERRY 

Well,  you've  made  a  nice  mess  of  it !  Why  can't  you 
keep  .your  nose  out  of  other  people's  business  ?  Why 
did  you  have  to  date  my  leaving  Black  River? 

DANIEL 

Why  did  you  have  to  get  mixed  up  with  Pearl 
Heanig? 

JERRY 
I  can  take  what  I  want  out  of  life ! 


THE  FOOL  99 

DANIEL 

You  can.  God  says :  "Here  is  the  world.  Take  what 
you  want  .  .  .  AND  PAY  FOR  IT!" 

JERRY 

Rubbish!  [Drinks]  Save  your  preaching  for  those 
that  like  it !  [Comes  down}  And  keep  away  from  my 
wife! 

DANIEL 
Why? 

JERRY 
Because  you're  in  love  with  her!    Aren't  you? 

DANIEL 

Yes. 

JERRY 

Well,  you've  a  hell  of  a  nerve  to  preach  to  me  about 
Hennig's  wife  while  you're  making  a  play  for  mine. 

DANIEL 

I'm  not  making  a  play  for  yours. 

JERRY 

No?  You  expect  me  to  believe  that  when  you  ad 
mit Why  did  you  pull  that  hero  stuff?  Why  did 

you  keep  your  mouth  shut  when  I  lost  my  temper?  Why 
did  you  turn  the  other  cheek? 

DANIEL 
You  wouldn't  understand,  Jerry. 

JERRY 

Wouldn't  I?  Well,  you  understand  that  I've  for 
bidden  you  to  speak  to  her  and  that  goes.  If  you 
come  here  again,  I'll  have  the  servants  throw  you  out, 
and  111  tell  my  father  why.  [GOODKIND  enters  L.] 


100  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 

Here's  your  father  now. 

JERRY 

And  that's  not  all  I'll  do  ! 
[Lowering  his  voice']  :  Not  by  a  damned  sight  !    [He 


wheels  about  and 

GOODKIND 
[Taking  cigars  from  humidor]  :    Smoke? 

DANIEL 

Thanks. 

GOODKIND 

[Looking  off  after  his  son}  :  Jerry  don't  like  you 
much,  does  he? 

DANIEL 

Not  much. 

GOODKIND 

[Lights  his  cigar}  :  Well  .  .  .  how  are  things  in 
Black  River? 

DANIEL 
I  think  we've  got  everything  settled. 

GOODKIND 

Fine!  Benfield'U  be  up  in  a  minute,  and  we'll  hear 
the  conditions  !  [He  sits  in  an  easy  chair  L.~\  Some 
how,  I  knew  you'd  do  it  !  Jerry  says  you're  a  philan 
thropist,  but  I  knew  he  was  wrong! 

DANIEL 

Thanks. 


THE  FOOL  101 

GOODKIND 

If  you've  really  settled  this  strike  .  .  .  our  way  .  .  . 
your  salary  from  today  is  thirty  thousand  a  year! 

DANIEL 
Thanks  .  .  .  again. 

GOODKIND 

I'm  dog-sick  of  rowing  with  labor!  It's  such  utter 
damned  waste !  .  .  .  Excuse  me ! 

DANIEL 
I  agree  with  you! 

GOODKIND 

I'd  hate  to  figure  what  walk-outs  have  cost  this  coun 
try! 

DANIEL 

Yes.  I  often  wonder  why  it  wouldn't  be  cheaper  to 
keep  the  men  contented. 

GOODKIND 

How're  you  going  to  do  it?  Don't  forget  there  are 
as  many  people  paid  for  stirring  up  strikes  as  for 
crushing  'em !  Paid  well,  too !  What  the  laboring  man 
needs  is  a  real  interest  in  his  job! 

DANIEL 
Why  don't  you  give  it  to  him? 

GOODKIND 

How?  By  doubling  his  wages?  The  more  most  of 
'em  get  the  less  they  want  to  do  for  it!  You  know 
that! 


102  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 
Yes. 

GOODKIND 

They've  got  a  notion  that  you  get  rich  by  riding 
around  in  a  limousine! 

DANIEL 
Don't  you? 

GOODKIND 

Not  often !  Not  unless  you  think  while  you  ride  .  .  . 
or  your  father  thought  for  you!  Even  then,  money 
doesn't  stay  long  in  bad  company !  To  hear  those  fel 
lows  you'd  think  there  wasn't  any  work,  except  what's 
done  with  a  pick!  The  man  that  really  produces  is 
the  man  with  the  idea ! 

DANIEL 
The  man  that  produces  most. 

GOODKIND 
Yes,  and  he  ought  to  get  most ! 

DANIEL 
He  does ! 

GOODKIND 

He  always  will!  Show  me  a  big  man  and  I'll  show 
you  somebody  who's  done  a  big  job !  It's  the  little  man 
with  no  capacity  and  no  chin  that  cries  about  a  con 
spiracy  to  keep  him  from  being  President! 

DANIEL 
There've  got  to  be  little  men,  too,  Mr.  Goodkind. 


THE  FOOL  103 

GrOODKIND 

And  they've  got  to  be  satisfied  with  little  rewards! 
We  can't  all  have  the  same  bank-roll  any  more  than  we 
can  all  have  the  same  health !  That's  where  unions  go 
wrong!  When  you  tell  a  man  he's  going  to  have  the 
same  reward,  whatever  he  does — not  because  he's  got 
ability,  but  because  he's  got  a  union  card — down  goes 
the  standard,  out  goes  incentive,  and  to  hell  goes  the 
whole  social  structure! 

DANIEL 
Right! 

GrOODKIND 

That's  why  I'm  fighting  the  unions !  Not  because  I 
want  to  starve  the  man  who  works,  but  because  I  want 
to  fire  the  man  who  doesn't  .  .  .  and  reward  the  man 
who  does !  I  want  to  give  every  man  a  good  reason  for 
doing  his  best !  You  can  talk  equality  and  democracy 
all  you  like,  Dan,  but  the  minute  the  average  man  isn't 
afraid  of  being  fired  he  isn't  afraid  of  being  worthless ! 
The  minute  you  take  away  incentive — the  chance  to 
get  this — that  minute  you  reduce  the  world  to  a  com 
mon  level  of  common  indifference  and  common  futility ! 

DANIEL 
Right! 

GrOODKIND 

[Rising]  :  Have  another  cigar !  [DANIEL  shows  the 
one  he  has  just  lighted,  and  shakes  his  head.]  Where 

the  hell's [He  turns,  and  sees  BENFIELD  standing 

in  the  door  L.~\    Oh,  Benfield!    Come  in!    Gilchrist  has 
settled  the  strike ! 


104  THE  FOOL 

BENFIELD 
Good! 

DANIEL 

[Giving  a  folded  document  to  GOODKIND]  :  There 
are  the  terms.  [GOODKIND  sits  L.]  They  may  seem  a 
little  radical,  but  I  think  I  can  show  you  they'll  save 
money  in  the  end ! 

GOODKIND 

That's  the  idea ! 

[With  the  paper  in  his  hands,  being  opened,  he  feels 
confident  and  cocky.  To  BENFIELD]  :  I  told  you  I 
knew  my  man!  The  Lord  knows  he's  full  of  theories, 
but  sometimes  they — [His  eye  falls  upon  a  disturbing 
line]  Wait  a  minute!  What's  this? 

BENFIELD 
What's  what? 

GOODKIND 

[Reading]  :  "Hereby  agreed  .  .  .  the  men  are  to  be 
represented  ...  on  the  board  of  directors.  .  .  .** 

BENFIELD 
[Stunned]:   No!! 

GOODKIND 

Yes!  And  .  .  .  look  here!  [Reading]  "All  dis 
putes  .  .  .  referred  ...  to  a  committee  of  arbitra 
tion  .  .  ." 

BENFIELD 

The  man's  gone  crazy! 

DANIEL 
When  you're  through  .  .  . 


THE  FOOL  105 

GrOODKIND 

[Reading] :  "One-half  of  all  profits,  over  and  above 
a  fair  dividend,  to  be  divided  pro  rata,  according  to 
wage  and  length  of  service."  [He  rises]  Why  .  .  , 
[Words  fail]  What  is  this? 

BENFIKLD 
Jerry  told  you;  it's  surrender! 

DANIEL 
No!    No!    It's  justice! 

GOODKIND 

It's  nothing!  It's  a  scrap  of  paper  until  I  sign  it, 
and  I  wouldn't  sign  it  if  I  had  to  shut  up  every  mine 
in  West  Virginia!  Why  should  I?  We've  got  'em 
licked! 

DANIEL 

If  you'll  only  let  me  explain  .  .  •« 

GOODKIND 

Explain  what?  They're  licked !  They  sent  a  delega 
tion  up  here,  and  we've  won  over  the  delegation ! 

DANIEL 

You  mean  you've  bought  the  delegation! 

GOODKIND 
Who  said  so? 

DANIEL 

Jerry.  .  .  .  Not  ten  minutes  ago  he  referred  to 
Stedtman  as  the  company  detective.  We  both  know 
Hennig's  for  sale.  Buy  him,  and  I'll  go  back  and  tell 
them  he's  bought,  and  prove  it ! 


106  THE  FOOL 

BENFIELD 
You're  working  for  us! 

DANIEL 

I'm  working  for 

GOODZIND 

Wait  a  minute,  Benfield !  We've  all  lost  our  heads ! 
Daniel  and  I  have  just  been  over  all  this,  and  he  ad 
mitted  I  was  right! 

DANIEL 

Right  as  far  as  you  went,  but  you  only  went  part 
way!  You  have  a  right  to  a  profit  on  your  idea,  and 
your  investment,  and  the  labor  you  put  back  of  it ! 
The  public  has  a  right  to  coal,  and  transportation,  and 
all  it  needs  and  pays  for!  But,  above  everything  else, 
the  workman  who  works  honestly  has  a  right  to  some 
thing  more  than  the  barest  kind  of  a  bare  living  .  .  . 
and  it  can  all  be  done  if  you  don't  sink  everybody's 
rights  to  accumulate  a  fortune  you  don't  need  and  can't 
use!  .  .  .  All  the  argument  on  earth  can't  make  you 
all  right  so  long  as  there's  a  Umanski  in  the  World! 

GOODKIND 

If  these  people  succeed  there's  no  limit  to  what  they'll 
do! 

DANIEL 

If  they  fail  there's  no  limit  to  what  you'll  do ! 

GOODKIND 

There's  no  good  transferring  control  from  the  intel 
ligent  few  to  the  ignorant  mob! 


THE  FOOL  107 

DANIEL 

There's  no  good  in  anything  so  long  as  we  fight  each 
other  like  beasts,  instead  of  helping  each  other  like 
brothers !  There's  no  hope  anywhere  except  in  The 
Great  Teacher,  and  the  understanding  that  what  He 
taught  was  not  only  good  morals,  but  good  sense  and 
good  business! 

BENFIELD 
Highfalutin  nonsense! 

GOODKIND 
Daniel  doesn't  realize  what  he's  costing  us! 

DANIEL 
What? 

GOODKIND 
Millions ! 

DANIEL 
Oh,  is  that  all? 

BENFIELD 
All? 

DANIEL 

Am  I  costing  you  one  cigar?  Am  I  costing  you  one 
blanket  from  your  warm  beds,  or  one  stick  of  furniture 
from  your  comfortable  homes,  or  anything  else  you'll 
ever  miss?  I'm  taking  nothing  from  you,  and  I'm  giv 
ing  thousands  of  men  like  you  a  chance  to  live ! 

GOODKIND 
You're  costing  yourself  your  last  chance  of  success ! 


108  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 

I  don't  want  your  kind  of  success!  I'm  through!  I 
give  you  back  your  job,  as  I  gave  you  back  your 
church,  and  I  give  you  twenty-four  hours  to  sign  that 
paper ! 

GOODKIND 

If  I  do,  you're  finished! 

DANIEL 
I  am  when  you've  signed !     [He  goes  R.] 

GOODKIND 

If  you  walk  out  of  that  door  you're  throwing  away 
the  chance  of  your  life! 

DANIEL 
I'm  keeping  my  soul !     [He  opens  the  door.] 

BENFIELD 

You  Judas! 

GOODKIND 

You  damned  fool ! 

DANTJEL 

Good-night ! 

[DANIEL  closes  the  door  behind  him.] 

THE    CURTAIN    FALLS. 


ACT  III. 

SCENE:    "Overcoat  Hall."     New  York. 

This  room — not  too  large — was  the  "front  parlor" 
of  a  comfortable  residence  in  down-town  New  York. 
Business,  of  the  least  attractive  sort,  and  the  slums 
long  since  have  occupied  the  district.  The  building  is 
a  red-brick,  low-stoop,  English-basement  house.  The 
rear  wall,  which  is  the  front  of  the  dwelling,  is  pierced 
by  two  lofty  windows,  through  which  are  seen  the  top  of 
an  iron  railing,  and  a  row  of  similar  structures,  fallen 
into  decay,  across  the  street.  Between  these  windows, 
upon  a  low  marble  shelf,  now  holding  a  tray  of  cups 
and  saucers,  originally  was  a  tall,  gold-framed  mirror. 
Over  this  hangs  a  blackboard,  upon  which  has  been 
chalked:  "And  so,  to  the  end  of  history,  hate  shall 
breed  hate,  murder  shall  breed  murder,  until  the  gods 
create  a  race  that  can  understand."  Beneath  the  right 
window  is  a  big  radiator.  Down  stage  R.  are  folding 
doors,  partly  open,  or  a  large  single  door — whichever 
shall  prove  advisable.  These — or  this — lead  to  the 
main  hall,  and  so  to  the  basement,  or  upstairs,  or  to 
the  front  door,  which  slams  solidly  whenever  it  is 
closed.  Left  is  a  decrepit,  white-marble  mantel,  with 
a  "fake"  fireplace.  In  front  of  this — in  a  jog,  per 
haps — a  small  platform,  of  the  kind  used  in  public 
schools.  Upon  this,  a  small  table  and  a  chair.  Down 

109 


110  THE  FOOL 

stage  of  it,  a  geographical  globe,  suspended  over  which 
a  wall-pad  informing  us  that  today  is  Wednesday. 
Above  the  mantel-shelf,  another  blackboard,  upon  which 
are  some  simple  calculations,  and  the  axiom,  "Luck  is 
work."  In  the  center  of  the  room  is  a  long  library 
table,  with  a  brown  cover,  and  with  numerous  kitchen 
chairs  about  it.  On  the  table  a  reading  lamp,  a  bowl 
of  yellow,  purple  and  brown  chrysanthemums;  and  nu 
merous  books  and  magazines.  Gilchrist  has  succeeded  in 
making  the  old  place  comfortable  and  inviting.  It  is 
a  combination  of  club,  settlement  house,  school,  reading 
room  and  lecture  hall.  Brown  linoleum  covers  the 
floor,  and  there  are  brown  denim  cur  tarns  over  the  win 
dows.  A  history  chart  hangs  on  the  watt.  There  are 
book-shelves,  and  two  or  three  big,  comfortable  chairs; 
a  phonograph  and,  perhaps,  even  a  motion  picture  ma 
chine. 

AT  RISE:  It  is  just  after  seven  o'clock  on  a  brisk 
evening  in  late  October,  1920. 

Grubby,  seated  down  stage  of  the  center  table,  is 
concealed  behind  a  copy  of  "The  Woman's  Home  Com 
panion"  which  he  has  opened  wide,  and  holds  in  front 
of  him. 

Mack,  a  shabby  ne'er-do-well,  between  thirty  and 
forty  years  old,  opens  the  doors  R.,  and  peers  in  uncer 
tainly.  Reassured  by  the  character  of  the  room,  he 
enters,  and  looks  about  him  curiously.  Even  from  the 
rear,  it  is  evident  that  Grubby  is  a  person  of  no  author 
ity,  so  Mack  dismisses  him,  temporarily,  and  warms  his 
hands  over  the  radiator.  Next  he  inspects  the  quo- 


THE  FOOL  111 

tation  between  the  windows,  pauses  at  the  phonograph, 
and  arrives  in  front  of  the  platform  L.  The  three 
words  on  this  blackboard  interest  him.  He  reads  them, 
turns  away,  turns  back,  and  reads  them  again.  At 
last,  he  sniffs  contemptuously,  and,  completing  his  cir 
cuit,  stops  on  the  left  of  Grubby. 

MACK 

Hello  .  .  .  you! 
[GRUBBY  lowers  his  paper,  and  reveals  a  sixty-year-old 

face,  round,  very  red,  and  framed  in  a  scraggly 

gray  beard.~\ 
Is  this  Overcoat  Hall? 

GEUBBY 
Yes. 

MACK 

I'm  looking  for  Mr.  Gilchrist. 

GEUBBY 
He  ain't  in,  but  he  will  be. 

MACK 
Are  you  working  here? 

GEUBBY 
No. 

MACK 

Is  anybody  working  here? 

GEUBBY 
Mary  Margaret. 

MACK 

Who's  she? 


112  THE  FOOL 

GRUBBY 
A  girl. 

MACK 
What  girl? 

GRUBBY 

The  girl  that  cleans.  A  lame  girl.  Her  mother's  the 
janitor.  Have  a  seat.  Somebody '11  be  along  in  a 
minute. 

[And  he  resumes  his  magazine  .  .  .  never  completely 
abandoned.  Mack,  thrown  upon  his  own  resources, 
picks  up  one  periodical  after  another,  but  Fortune 
does  not  smile.  They  prove  to  be  "The  Atlantic 
Monthly"  .  .  .  "The  Review  of  Reviews"  .  .  . 
"The  Scientific  American."] 

MACK 
What  are  you  reading? 

GRUBBY 
A  piece  about  "Better  Babies.'* 

MACK 
[Laughs]  :    Are  you  going  into  the  baby  business? 

GRUBBY 
No.    I  was  a  hansom  driver. 

MACK 

Handsome!    [The  laugh  becomes  uproarious.] 
GRUBBY 

Ah  .  .  .  hacks!  I  drove  hacks  .  .  .  man  and  boy 
.  .  .  forty  years.  Then  taxis  come  in,  and  I  went 
out! 


THE  FOOL 

MACK 
What'd  you  do  then? 

GRUBBY 
Took  to  drink. 

MACK 

Yeh;  then  drink  went  out. 

GRUBBY 
What's  your  job? 

MACK 

Well,  I  was  in  the  movies.  That  is,  I  was  going  to 
be,  but  the  fellow  that  was  going  to  put  up  the  money, 
his  mother  didn't  die,  after  all.  .  .  .  Before  that,  I 
sold  bricks  ...  a  few  weeks.  I  sold  books,  too.  And 
life  insurance.  I  never  had  any  luck.  Who  wrote  that, 
"Luck  is  Work"? 

GRUBBY 
Mr.  Gilchrist. 

MACK 

Well,  it  isn't !  I've  worked  at  fif ty  things,  and  look 
at  me !  I  figure  the  world  owes  me  a  living,  and  here  I 
am,  waiting  for  a  bite  of  grub  and  an  overcoat !  Is  it 
true  the  boss'll  give  you  an  overcoat  ? 

GRUBBY 
He  will  if  he's  got  one. 

MACK 

That's  what  a  fellow  told  me.  He  said  that's  why 
they  call  this  Overcoat  Hall. 


114*  THE  FOOL 

GRUBBY 
Yes. 

MACK 

I  suppose  a  hara-luck  story's  the  proper  spiel. 

GRUBBY 

You  don't  get  no  chance  for  a  spiel.  He  don't  ask 
you  nothing.  You  just  come,  and  help  yourself,  and 
talk  things  over  .  .  ,  if  you  want  to.  Coffee  and 
sandwiches  every  night — and  suppers  and  sermons 
on  Wednesdays. 

MACK 

Preaching !  [Looks  at  the  wall  pad,  and  reaches  for 
his  hat.~\  Wednesday.  I'll  be  back  Thursday. 

GRUBBY 
Not    regular   preaching!      Just   talks!      Sometimes 

they's  a  picture  show  .  .  .  but  the  pictures  is  rotten! 

No  shooting,  or  nothing!    But  you  can  always  sneak 

a  little  snooze  'til  you  get  to  the  hand-out ! 

[MARY  MARGARET  enters  through  the  open  door  R. 
Her  two  crutches  are  rubber-tipped,  so  her  in 
vasion  is  noiseless.  She  occupies  herself  with  the 
cups  and  saucers  C.  MARY  MARGARET  is  fifteen, 
and  pathetically  pretty.  The  conspicuous  fea 
ture  of  her  costume  is  a  pair  of  soiled  gold  slip 
pers  that  once  set  off  a  ball  gown.~\ 

MACK 
Don't  he  try  to  reform  you? 


THE  FOOL  115 

GRUBBY 

Naw!  The  way  he  talks,  you'd  think  you  was  as 
good  as  him.  He  says  to  me,  the  other  night,  he  says, 
"You're  a  good  man  yet,  Grubby,"  he  says.  "You're 
strong  and  healthy,"  he  says,  "and,  if  you  learned  to 
drive  a  taxi,  all  the  best  people  in  New  York  would  be 
telephoning  for  your  cab.  I'll  lend  you  the  money," 
he  says.  Gee ;  he  almost  had  me  started  I 

MACK 
What's  the  catch? 

GRUBBY 
I  don't  know. 

MACK 

There  must  be  graft  in  it  somewhere. 

GRUBBY 

If  you  ask  me,  I  think  the  poor  gent's  got  a  few 
nuts  in  his  nose-bag.  A  little  bit  batty.  That's  what 
/say! 

MARY  MARGARET 
[Turning  down]  :  And  that's  what  you  got  no  right 

to  say,  Grubby ! 

GRUBBY 

[To  MACK]  :   Mary  Margaret. 

MARY  MARGARET 
He's  been  good  to  you,  ain't  he? 

GRUBBY 

That's  why  we  think  he's  nutty.  What's  he  do  it 
for? 


116  THE  FOOL 

MARY  MARGARET 
'Cause  he  loves  you. 

GRUBBY 
What  for? 

MARY  MARGARET 

God  knows !  [She  has  brought  down  a  cup  and  sau 
cer,  with  other  utensils,  and  is  clearing  and  setting  a 
place  at  one  end  of  the  table.  With  this  exclamation, 
she  locates  the  cup  somewhat  forcibly.]  After  seven 
o'clock  now,  and  the  meeting  in  half  an  hour,  and  he 
ain't  had  a  bite  since  morning ! 

MACK 
Where  is  he? 

MARY  MARGARET 

He  went  to  see  a  man  that  killed  himself.  [MACK 
laughs']  I  mean  .  .  .  tried  to.  It  was  in  the  papers 
this  afternoon,  and  Mr.  Gilchrist  says :  "I  want  to 
talk  to  that  man."  [MACK'S  interposition  has  brought 
his  words  to  her  vmnd,  and  reflecting  on  them,  she  ex 
plodes.]  Graft!!  Why  he  didn't  have  the  rent  money 
yesterday,  and  he  was  desprit !  He  ain't  had  money 
to  get  himself  a  pair  of  shoes,  and  nobody  helps  him, 
or  comes  near  him,  but  you  bums  that  roast  him  be 
hind  his  back!  [GOODKIND  appears  in  the  doorway  R.] 

GRUBBY 
I  didn't  roast  him.    I  just  said  he  was  crazy, 

GOODKIND 
[Crisply]:    Mr.  Gilchrist? 


THE  FOOL  117 

MARY  MARGARET 
He'll  be  here  any  minute.    Won't  you  come  in? 

GOODKIND 
Thanks. 

[He  comes  forward  a  -few  steps,  and  looks  at  GRUBBY, 
who,  after  an  instant,  takes  refuge  behind  his 
Home  Companion.  GOODKIND  crosses  to  MACK, 
who  turns  up  stage.  He  surveys  the  blackboard. 
MARY  MARGARET  finishes  her  task.] 

MARY  MARGARET 

[Offering  a  periodical  to  GOODKIND]  :  Take  a  maga 
zine,  and  sit  down.  [With  a  nod,  he  accepts.]  I  got 
to  go  make  the  coffee.  [To  GRUBBY]  You  can  come 
and  carry  it  up  in  about  fifteen  minutes.  [She  turns 
and  catches  MACK  filching  a  loaf  of  sugar.]  Graft!! 
.  .  .  Well,  you  ought  to  know !  [She  exits  R.,  singing 
"I'm  a  Pilgrim."  By  now,  GOODKIND  is  reading  in  a 
big  chair  L.  MACK  glances  at  him,  and  comes  dozen  to 
GRUBBY.] 

MACK 

Think  she'll  tell  him? 

GRUBBY 

Naw!     Anyway,  he  don't  care!     He  says  we're  afl 
brothers  in  God. 

MACK 
Gee! 

GRUBBY 

That's  what  he  told  Jimmie  Curran — brothers  in 
God — and  Jimmie  just  up  for  pinchin'  a  guy's  pants. 


118  THE  FOOL 

Jimmie  lives  across  from  his  room  upstairs,  and  Jimmie 
says  he's  clean  loco.  [GOODKIND  notes  name  and  ad 
dress  on  the  margin  of  his  magazine.']  Guess  what  he's 
got  in  the  back  yard ! 

MACK 
What? 

GRUBBY 

Tennis.    And  handball  games  for  children.    And,  in 
the  other  two  houses,  he's  got  flats  .  .  .  with  bathtubs 
.  .  .  and  the  rents  ain't  what  they  ask  now  for  stalling 
a  horse.    Why  wouldn't  I  say  he  was  crazy?     Every 
body  says  so  but  Mary  Margaret ! 
[DANIEL  enters  R.     He  is  shabby,  but  beaming.     He 
carries  two  books,  which  he  lays  on  some  piece  of 
furniture  up  R.;  after  which  he  removes  his  over 
coat,  and  hangs  it  over  an  old  umbrella  already 
suspended  from  a  wall-rack  down  stage  of  the 
door.~\ 

DANIEL 

Hello,  Grubby !  You're  early !  And  you've  brought 
a  friend!  That's  fine!  [He  shakes  hands  with  MACK.] 
You're  very  welcome!  [Sees  and  crosses  to  GOODKIND] 
And  Mr.  Goodkind!  Well!  You're  welcome,  too! 
[Shakes  hands]  Have  you  come  down  to  look  us  over? 

GOODKIND 

[His  eyes  indicating  the  others'}  :  I've  come  down  on 
personal  business. 

DANIEL 

Oh,  yes !  [Turns]  Grubby,  there's  a  box  of  books  in 
the  hall.  How  would  you  and  your  friend  like  to 


THE  FOOL  119 

GRUBBY 
I  promised  to  help  with  the  coffee. 

DANIEL 

I  see.  [GRUBBY  exits.  To  MACK,  who  has  been 
stealing  surreptitious  glances  at  the  overcoat]  And 
you? 

MACK 

I  just  wanted  to  speak  to  you  a  minute. 

DANIEL 
All  right.     After  the  meeting. 

MACK 
I  wanted  to  ask  you 

DANIEL 

After  the  meeting!  [Turns  back  to  GOODKIND]  Sit 
down. 

GOODKIND 

[Sitting]:  Thanks. 

[MACK — resentful,  unobserved,  uncertain  of  getting  the 
coat  honestly — is  sorely  tempted.  One  pull,  one 
step,  and  he  is  safe  from  work  and  denial.  During 
the  following,  standing  almost  in  the  doorway,  he 
is  drawing  the  garment  toward  him.] 

DANIEL 

[To  GOODKIND]  :  I'm  glad  you  dropped  in  tonight, 
because  I've  been  intending  to  call  on  you,  but  there's 


120  THE  FOOL 

so  much  to  do  here — [The  coat  comes  off  the  rack,  and 
with  it,  the  umbrella,  which  -falls  with  a  crash.  Both 
men  rise,  discovering  MACK,  coat  in  hand.]  Hello!  I 
thought  you'd  gone. 

MACK 
No;  I — I — wanted 

DANIEL 
You  wanted  my  coat. 

MACK 

[Advancing  with  a  glad  smile  of  pretended  relief  that 
DANIEL  has  found  the  simple  explanation} :  Yes  .  .  . 
that's  what  I  wanted  to  ask  you. 

DANIEL 

I'm  so  glad  you  said  so.  [MACK  shows  surprise.] 
Because,  if  you  hadn't  and  I  hadn't  understood,  you 
might  have  been  tempted  to  take  it  without  asking — 
and  then  you'd've  been  so  sorry  and  ashamed.  A  man 
couldn't  come  into  another  man's  house,  and  be  wel 
comed,  and  then  take  the  other  man's  coat,  without 
losing  his  self-respect  .  .  .  could  he?  And,  of  course, 
if  we're  going  to  pull  ourselves  together,  and  get  out 
of  a  hole,  we  must  keep  our  self-respect. 

MACK 
I  wouldn't  steal 

DANIEL 

You  couldn't.  .  .  .  It's  your  coat.  .  .  .  You  asked 
for  it,  and  I  gave  it  to  you.  .  .  .  When  you've  worn  it 


THE  FOOL  121 

.  .  .  into  a  good  job  ...  come  back  and  help  me  give 
another  to  someone  who  needs  it  as  you  do. 

MACK 
I  will. 

DANIEL 

Of  course  you  will.  [Helps  him  into  the  coat,  and 
then  shakes  his  hand.]  Good-night. 

MACK 

[Hesitates,  amazed]  :  Good-night.  [DANIEL  turns 
L.,  and  with  a  gesture  expressive  of  the  conviction  that 
this  man  is  mad,  MACK  exits.] 

GOODKIND 

Well,  I'll  be  damned!  [DANIEL  laughs]  He  won't 
come  back !  Not  one  in  ten  would  come  back ! 

DANIEL 

All  right!  .  .  .  That  coat  cost  twenty  dollars.  If 
one  in  ten  does  come  back,  we've  made  a  man  for  two 
hundred  dollars.  Isn't  it  worth  the  price? 

GOODKIND 
Maybe  ...  if  a  man's  got  the  price!     Have  you? 

DANIEL 
Like  our  friend  .  .  .  that's  what  I  wanted  to  ask 

you. 

GOODKIND 

It's  not  what  I  wanted  to  ask  you. 

DANIEL 
I'm  rather  badly  in  need  of  money,  and  my  father — 


122 


THE  FOOL 


GOODKIND 

Your  father  understood  you  well  enough  to  leave  you 
only  an  income.  I  foolishly  turned  over  some  of  the 
principal,  and,  in  three  months,  you  threw  away  twenty 
thousand  dollars.  You  could  have  had  a  big  salary, 
and  you  threw  that  away.  You're  an  utter  damned 
waster — if  you're  no  worse ! 

DANIEL 
What  do  you  mean  .  .  .  worse? 

GOODKIND 

You'll  soon  find  out  what  I  mean!  You've  had  my 
son's  wife  down  here,  haven't  you? 

DANIEL 
Once  or  twice. 

GOODKIND 

Or  three  times  ...  or  a  dozen!    He  knows! 

DANIEL 
I've  asked  her  not  to  come  again. 

GOODKIND 

And  he's  asked  her  .  .  .  but  she's  coming  when  she 
likes.  She  says  so.  Because  she's  in  love  with  you. 
.  .  .  God  knows  what  women  see  in  your  kind  of  man ! 
There  was  Pearl  Hennig 

DANIEL 
Please ! 

GOODKIND 

Oh,  my  son  told  me !    And  I  hear  ...  in  the  neigh- 


THE  FOOL  123 

borhood  .  .  .  that  you've  worse  women  than  that  run 
ning  here !    Women  of  the  streets ! 

DANIEL 
Not  many.    They're  welcome,  but  they  don't  come. 

GOODKIND 

Well,  that's  your  business !  And  if  your  neighbors 
get  sick  of  having  a  resort  of  this  kind  in  their  midst, 
and  drive  you  out,  that's  your  business !  But  my  son's 
wife 

DANIEL 
Is  her  business ! 

GOODKIND 

And  his!  Only  Jerry's  in  no  condition  to  settle  the 
matter !  He's  broken  down  from  worry  and  overwork, 
and  you're  partly  responsible,  and  that  puts  it  up  to 
me !  You  can  take  this  as  a  final  warning !  If  you  see 
Clare  again,  I'U  act,  and  I'll  act  quick !  That's  all ! 
Good-night!  [He  gathers  up  his  coat  and  hat,  and 
crosses  to  the  door.~\ 

DANIEL 

[Waking  from  a  reverie,  and  turning  R.~\  Oh!  Mr. 
Goodkind ! 

GOODKIND 

[Expecting  capitulation.     Comes  down  JK.] :    Yes  ? 

DANIEL 

How  about  the  money? 

GOODKIND 
You've  had  what's  coming  to  you! 


THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 

But  that's  nothing!  I  pay  half  that  for  these  crazy 
houses !  And  I've  gone  terribly  in  debt  fitting  them  up ! 

GOODKIND 
With  bath  tubs  and  tennis  courts! 

DANIEL 
People  must  have  baths. 

GOODKIND 
Thec«  dirty  immigrants ! 

DANIEL 

The  dirtier  they  are,  the  worse  they  need  'em.  I 
want  to  show  them  how  to  live,  and  I  want  to  show 
other  people  that  you  don't  have  to  make  a  pigpen  to 
make  a  profit! 

GOODKIND 
Are  you  making  a  profit? 

DANIEL 

Enormous !  And,  to  go  on,  I've  got  to  have  twenty- 
two  thousand  dollars. 

GOODKIND 

Oh,  is  that  all?  Twenty-two  thousand  dollars  to  go 
on  making  a  fool  of  yourself !  Well,  you  won't  get  it ! 

DANIEL 
Not  even  as  an  advance? 


THE  FOOL  125 

GOODKTND 

Not  a  penny ! 

DANIEL 

Don't  drive  me  to 

GOODKUTD 
To  what? 

DANIEL 

[Rather  at  a  Ion]  :  To  ask  for  an  accounting ! 

GOODKEXD 

[Hardly  believing  his  own  ears'] :  To  ask  for  .  .  . 
WHAT?  [This  it  the  last  straw.}  Now  listen  to  at! 
I've  stood  all  I'm  going  to  stand!  You've  run  amuck! 
You've  become  dangerous  to  yourself  .  .  .  and  me 
.  .  .  and  the  neighborhood!  You're  going  to  stop 
it,  and  you're  going  to  stop  now ! 

DANIEL 
That's  your  mistake. 

GoODKUJD 

Is  it?  A  year  ago  you  gave  me  twenty-four  hours 
to  sign  a  paper,  and  I  did  it,  and  it  cost  me  two  mil 
lion  dollars!  Tonight  I  give  you  thirty  minutes  to 
shut  up  this  place,  and  quit  seeing  my  daughter,  and 
if  you  don't  do  it 

DAXIZL 
As  I  won't! 

GOODEOTD 

Fll  be  here  inside  of  half  an  hour  with  a  doctor! 


126  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 
And  then? 

GOODKIND 

Then  we'll  file  a  petition  to  have  you  declared  incom 
petent!  [He  starts  R.] 

DANIEL 

Mr.  Goodkind,  you  don't  mean  that  I  You  don't 
mean  that  because  I'm  trying  to  help 

GOODKIND 

Help  .  .  .  whom?  Strikers,  and  street  women,  and 
general  riff-raff !  And  you  don't  even  help  them  .  .  . 
because  nobody  can!  And,  if  you  could,  and  did,  how 
in  the  name  of  God  would  that  help  the  Community? 
If  I  find  you're  still  crazy  in  half  an  hour,  I'll  sa$ 
you're  crazy,  and  Pll  prove  it!  [He  goes  to  the  door.~\ 
Think  it  over!  [As  he  is  about  to  exit,  he  narrowly 
escapes  collision  with  a  neatly-dressed,  capable-looking 
man,  who  apologizes,  in  nearly  correct  English,  and, 
with  a  contemptuous  glance,  crosses  to  up  C.] 

THE  MAN 
Excuse  me ! 

GOODKIND 

All  right !  [He  follows  the  man  back  into  the  room.} 
Haven't  I  seen  you  somewhere  before? 

THE  MAN 
Yes,  sir.    My  name's  Umanski. 

GOODKIND 

Umanski?  [He  remembers}  You're  not  the  Pole 
who  came  to  my  house  last  year  with  a  delegation? 


THE  FOOL  127 

UMANSKI 
Yes. 

GOODKIND 

Well,  I'll  be [DANIEL  ftts  his  pipe  from  a  jar  on 

the  mantelpiece  L.~\ 

UMANSKI 

Mr.  Gilchrist  tell  me  stay  in  New  York.  He's  teach 
me  English,  and  find  me  good  job.  I'm  work  now  eight 
hours  on  the  docks,  and  six  on  myself.  [GOODKIND 
again  starts  to  go.~\ 

DANIEL 

Mr.  Goodkind!  [GOODKIND  turns'}  Umanski's  got 
an  invention.  If  you'll  see  it 

GOODKIND 
111  see  you  in  ...  half  an  hour !    [He  exits.] 

UMANSKI 
What's  lie  doing  down  here,  Mr.  Gilchrist? 

DANIEL 

He  says  I'm  crazy,  and  he's  going  to  shut  up  this 
place.  Of  course,  he  won't.  [He  opens  a  book.} 

UMANSKI 
Don't  be  too  sure. 

DANIEL 

Nonsense !  [He  sits}  I  made  him  angry.  [He  marks 
a  passage.}  And  somebody's  told  him  a  lot  of  lies ! 


128  THE  FOOL 

UMANSKI 

Somebody's  told  a  good  many  people  lies!  Yester 
day  I  heard  a  man  say  you  run  this  house  to  ...  to 
.  .  .  [He  hesitates.  DAN  looks  up.~\  ...  to  get 
women ! 

DANIEL 
Who  said  that? 

UMANSKI 
A  wop  named  Malduca. 

DANIEL 

Oh,  yes !  I  took  his  daughter  in  here  once  .  .  .  for  a 
week  .  .  .  until  he  got  sober. 

UMANSKI 

They's  a  good  many  like  that. 

DANIEL 
Oh,  not  a  good  many ! 

UMANSKI 

Enough  to  make  trouble.  Why  not  you  carry  a 
pistol? 

DANIEL 
It's  generally  men  with  pistols  that  get  shot. 

UMANSKI 
One  of  them  fellows  get  you [Enter  MASY  MAB- 

GAEET.] 

DANIEL 
[  Warning  him] :   Sh ! 


THE  FOOL  139 

MABY  MARGARET 
I  s'pose  you  ain't  had  any  supper. 

DANIEL 

Not  yet.  [GRUBBY  enters  with  a  tray,  from  which 
MARY  MARGARET  transfers  dishes  to  the  table.] 

UMANSKI 

I  brought  you  some  money. 

DANIEL 
Money  ? 

UMANSKI 

My  boss  he  give  me  another  raise.  He  gonna  make 
me  boss  after  while.  So  I  like  to  begin  pay  back  what 
you  lend  me.  {Takes  out  bills. ,] 

DANIEL 

Wait  'til  you've  sent  for  your  family. 

UMANSKI 

I'm  gonna  send  now.  My  big  boy  I'm  gonna  send 
school  .  .  .  college,  maybe.  That  pump  I  make  she 
goes  fine.  I  show  my  boss  .  .  .  like  you  say  .  .  .  be 
cause  he  know  about  coal  mines  .  .  .  and  he  say  if  she 
work  she  save  whole  lots  of  lives  and  money.  She  work, 
all  right!  [He  has  put  down  the  bitt*,  and  brought 
forth  an  English  grammar.]  How  about  I  go  upstairs 
and  study? 


130  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 

Sure !  Go  right  up  to  my  room !  I'll  be  along  after 
the  meeting!  [UMANSKI  exits.  GRUBBY  starts  to  fol 
low.']  Where  are  you  going,  Grubby? 

GRUBBY 
Sandwiches  I    [He  exits. ~\ 

MARY  MARGARET 
[Down  L.]:  Your  supper's  ready! 

DANIEL 

Thanks.  [Looks  up]  What's  this  we're  wearing? 
Golden  slippers? 

MARY  MARGARET 

Uh-huh !  I  took  'em  out  of  the  barrel  of  clothes  that 
pretty  lady  sent. 

DANIEL 
[Sitting  at  table]  :   Supper  with  Cinderella ! 

MARY  MARGARET 

[Setting  dish  before  him]  :  Gee,  I  love  that  story ! 
[She  sits  beside  him,  facing  front.]  When  you  tell  it 
to  me,  you  make  me  believe  I'm  her. 

DANIEL 
If  you  believe  it  ...  you  are. 

MARY  MARGARET 
I  guess  believin'  ain't  never  goin'  to  make  me  dance. 


THE  FOOL  131 

DANIEL 
You  can't  tell  ...  if  you  believe  hard  enough. 

MABY  MARGARET 

That's  what  you  said  before,  and  I've  tried,  but, 
somehow,  it  don't  work. 

DANIEL 

That's  the  very  time  to  go  on.  If  we  stop,  just  be 
cause  it  don't  work,  that  isn't  faith. 

MARY  MARGARET 

No ;  I  s'pose  not. 

DANIEL 

And  faith  moves  mountains.  Once  upon  a  time  there 
was  a  woman  who'd  been  sick  twelve  years. 

MARY  MARGARET 
What  was  the  matter  with  her? 

DANIEL 

I  don't  know.  But  there  was  a  Man  in  that  city  who 
said  He  could  even  make  the  dead  rise.  And  everybody 
laughed  at  Him  ...  as  they  would  today.  But  the 
woman  didn't  laugh,  and  one  morning,  when  He  was 
passing  her  house,  she  got  up  and  followed  Him  .  .  . 
just  to  touch  the  hem  of  His  cloak.  And  what  do  you 
think? 

MARY  MARGARET 

I  duno. 

DANIEL 

She  was  cured.    And  the  Man  said 


182  THE  FOOL 

MARY  MARGARET 
Oh,  now,  I  know.    "Thy  faith  hath  made  thee  whole." 

DANIEL 
That's  right. 

MARY  MARGARET 
Could  God  do  that  for  me? 

DANIEL 
Why  not? 

MARY  MARGARET 

It  would  be  an  awful  big  favor. 

DANIEL 

But  if  He  doesn't,  you  must  go  on.  If  faith  doesn't 
heal  our  hurts,  it  helps  us  to  bear  them.  And  that's 
almost  the  same  thing,  isn't  it? 

MARY  MARGARET 
[Doubtfully]:  Yes. 

DANIEL 
Like  believing  you're  Cinderella. 

MARY  MARGARET 
Yes. 

DANIEL 

We  can't  decide  what  we  want,  and  then  be  angry 
and  doubtful  because  it  doesn't  happen  our  way.  Be 
cause,  all  the  time  it's  happening  His  way.  The  only 
thing  we  can  be  sure  of  is  that  He  knows  what's  best. 

MARY  MARGARET 

That's  right.  .  .  .  You  mean,  if  God  wants  me  to 
be  well,  some  day  He'll  make  me  well? 


THE  FOOL  133 

DANIEL 
If  you  believe  hard  enough. 

MARY  MARGARET 

And  if  He  don't? 

DANIEL 

Then  that's  right  ...  if  you  believe  hard  enough. 

MARY  MARGARET 

I  will,  Mr.  Gilchrist.     [She  rises]   You  ain't  touched 
your  supper. 

DANIEL 
I've  had  plenty. 

MARY  MARGARET 

111  send  Grubby  up  for  the  tray. 

[She  exits.  DANIEL  finishes,  and  puts  up  his  napkin. 
He  observes  that  the  window-shades  have  not  been 
drawn.  Attends  to  that  R.  Facing  L.,  with  his 
hand  on  the  shade  of  the  window  L.,  he  pauses  to 
look  out.  PEARL  HENNIG  enters.  Pearl  is  $5, 
and  her  clothes  are  cheaply  flashy.  An  experi 
enced  eye  should  lose  no  time  in  appraising  her. 
She  has  an  air  of  alarm.  She  looks  around  for 
DAN,  and  then  isn't  quite  sure  of  him  in  the 
shadows  up  stage.] 

PEARL 

[Uncertainly] :    Mr.   Gilchrist?      [He  half  turns] 
Don't  stand  by  that  window ! 


134  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 

Hello,  Pearl!  [He  draws  the  shade]  How  well 
you're  looking.  [Comes  down]  What's  the  matter 
with  the  window? 

PEARL 
It  ain't  safe. 

DANIEL 

[Smilmg~\  :  Are  you  going  to  advise  me  to  carry  a 
pistol? 

PEARL 

No.    Just  to  keep  out  o'  sight  of  people  that  do. 

DANIEL 
Meaning? 

PEARL 

Meaning  Joe  Hennig. 

DANIEL 
I  thought  Joe  was  in  Black  River. 

PEARL 

He  ain't.  I  told  you  he  was  ashamed  to  go  home. 
I  told  you  he  was  gonna  stay  here  an'  get  you! 

DANIEL 
[Sits  on  bench  in  front  of  table']  :    Well  ? 

PEARL 

[Down  stage  R.  of  table']  :  Well  ...  he  stayed.  I 
went  to  him  .  .  .  like  I  told  you  ...  an'  said  it 
wasn't  you  .  .  .  an'  ast  him  to  take  me  back.  An'  he 


THE  FOOL  135 

said  I  was  a  liar  an*  he  was  gonna  get  you.    I  told  you 
all  that! 

DANIEL 
Yds ;  I  guess  you  did. 

PEARL 

While  he  was  workin'  up  town  I  didn't  hear  nothin' 
about  him.  But  a  little  while  ago  he  lost  his  job,  an' 
began  hangin'  around  down  here.  An'  he's  been 
drinkin',  an'  talkin'  wild,  an'  I  come  in  to  tell  you. 

DANIEL 
That's  kind  of  you,  Pearl,  but  I'm  not  afraid  of  Joe. 

PEARL 
I  am.  .  .  .  He's  got  his  gang.  ...  I  know. 

DANIEL 

How  do  you  know  ? 

PEARL 

[Hesitates]  :  Well,  last  night  I  met  up  with  one  of 
his  pals.  .  .  .  An'  he'd  been  drinkin'.  An'  he  said  Joe 
said  you  was  livin'  on  women,  an'  this  place  was  a 
blind,  an'  nobody's  wife  was  safe  while  you  was  in  the 
neighborhood.  An'  this  man  said  they  was  gonna  get 
together,  an'  drive  you  out.  They're  dang'rous,  Mr. 
Gilchrist.  For  God's  sake,  believe  me !  For  God's  sake, 
telephone  the  police! 

DANIEL 

There's  no  telephone  here,  Pearl.  But  there's  always 
an  officer  at  hand,  and  I'm  among  friends.  Don't 
worry.  Sit  down,  and  wait  for  the  meeting.  I  haven't 
seen  you  in  ages. 


186  THE  FOOL 

PEAEL 
[Doian't  ait.    She  w  reiitleaa]  :  Two  weeks. 

DANIJIL 
What  are  you  doing? 

PKAIU. 
I'm  workin'  at  Macy's. 

DAWIBL 
Like  it? 

PBAEL 

[Defiantly]  :  Better  than  bein'  with  Joe. 

I)\MI    1. 

If  you'd  stayed  with  Joo,  maybe  he  wouldn't  be 
drinking. 

PKAEL 

He  always  did,    That'*  why  I  ast  you  to  stick  around 
in  Black  River.    That's  one  reason  I  quit. 

DANIHL 

Oiu- 


\Admitting  it  grudgingly]:  They  was  others.  .  .  . 
I  wanted  good  clothes,  an'  a  good  time  .  .  .  jus'  like 
other  women. 

DANIEL 

[Thinking  of  CLARE]:   Yes  .  .  .  like  other  women. 

IV\!M. 

In,   co»tnnn'\\    An'  l\r  ^..1   Vm  ! 


Mnjoft*  <%*%»»  ** 

•WMkM        AAril        fc4  •         ^^^^hBk      -W^^^te^M  t^^fr 

%   %  ^^m.   •••    *•«    WM1T    W^BIK   %    %    %   VBBK 


rtifo^.ft  .  .  ,  «d»tfc 


s*y  ft,  but 


138  THE  FOOL 

IEL  laughs']  You're  crazy,  Mr.  Gilchrist  !  You're  just 
crazy!  [An  infinitesimal  pause.  She  turns.  ,]  An'  I'm 
goin*  !  [She  runs  to  the  door,  wHch  opens  before  her, 
and  admits  CLARE  GOODKIND.  CLARE  is  smartly 
gowned,  in  street  attire,  but  somehow,  she  has  the  ap 
pearance  of  being  disheveled  ...  of  having  dressed 
in  haste.] 

DANIEL 

Clare  —  Mrs.  Goodkind!     [A  pause]    Mrs.  Hennig's 
just  going. 

CLARE 
Mrs.  Hennig? 

DANIEL 

Pearl  Hennig.    You've  heard  your  husband  mention 
her  name. 

PEARL 
I  know  your  husband. 

CLARE 

I  know  you  do.      [Her  tone  tells   how  much  she 
knows.] 

PEARL 
:   I  guess  you  ain't  got  much  use  for  me. 


CLARE 
Why  ?    What's  the  difference  between  us  ? 

PEARL 

[Unable  to  make  it  out]:     Well  .  .  .  good-night! 
[She  exits.] 


THE  FOOL  139 

DANIEL 

Clare,  I  asked  you.  .  .  . 

CLAEE 
I'd  nowhere  else  to  go.    I've  left  him. 

DANIEL 
Left  .  .  .  Jerry? 

CLAEE 
Yes.    For  good.    He  struck  me. 

DANIEL 
No!! 

CLAEE 

Here  ...  in  the  breast !  And  he's  lying  now  .  .  . 
brandy-soaked  and  half-conscious  .  .  .  across  the  foot 
of  my  bed ! 

DANIEL 
I  can't  .  .  .  believe.  .  .  . 

CLAEE 

He's  been  drinking  .  .  .  more  and  more!  And,  of 
course,  there've  been  women  .  .  .  from  the  beginning! 
All  kinds  of  women !  That  woman,  salesgirls,  stenogra 
phers,  women  of  our  own  class !  Do  you  remember  .  .  . 
in  your  church  ...  a  Mrs.  Thornbury?  He's  been 
quite  open  about  her!  Tonight  we  were  going  out  to 
dinner!  He  came  to  my  room  .  .  .  drunk  .  .  .  and 
babbled  that  he'd  refused  to  go  until  she  was  invited! 
Then  /  refused  to  go,  and  he  accused  me  ...  of  you 
.  .  .  and  struck  me  with  his  fist ! 


I 

140  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 
He  accused  .  .  .  you? 

CLARE 

Yes.  And  then  he  tried  to  take  me  in  his  arms! 
Night  after  night  he's  come  to  me  ...  drunk  .  .  . 
and  held  me  in  his  arms.  And  I  said  once  there  was 
nothing  more  degrading  than  poverty !  In  the  past  two 
years  I've  learned  what  degradation  means !  I've  come 
to  see  your  way  at  last !  I've  come  to  realize  that  the 
material  things  are  nothing,  and  that  love  is  all  I  It 
isn't  too  late? 

DANIEL 
It's  never  too  late! 

GLAEE 

I  knew  you'd  say  that!  I'll  share  your  work  .  .  . 
your  want  ...  if  need  be  ...  gladly !  Only  take  me 
away! 

DANIEL 

[Not  yet  comprehending'}  :    But  my  work  is  here ! 

CLABE 

We  can't  stay  here !  Jerry  suspects  us !  He's  made 
his  father  suspect  us !  Do  you  know  what  they're  plan 
ning  to  do  now?  \He  nods']  Jerry  wants  to  send  you 
to  an  asylum!  He  said  so  tonight!  And  hell  do  it, 
too!  The  strange  thing  about  Jerry  is  that,  with  his 
mind  going,  and  his  health  gone,  he  still  gets  what  he 
wants!  Take  me  away,  and  "we'll  have  five  or  six 
rooms,  and  each  other!" 


THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 

Clare! 

CLARE 

Don't  you  understand  that  Fm  offering  myself  to 

you? 

DANIEL 
Yes ;  I  understand ! 

CLARE 

I  love  you !  I  need  you !  I've  always  loved  you,  and 
needed  you,  even  when  I  lied  to  you,  and  myself !  This 
is  our  last  chance  for  happiness !  Pve  been  blind,  and 
stupid,  and  cruel,  but  it  isn't  too  late!  Take  me,  and 
hold  me,  and  we'll  both  forget ! 

DANIEL 
Forget? 

CLAEE 

Forget  everything!    Won't  you  take  me,  dear? 

DANIEL 
No! 

CLAEE 
Don't  you  want  me? 

DANIEL 
No! 

CLAEE 

That's  not  true !  You  love  me !  You've  always  loved 
me!  Look  at  me,  and  deny  it  if  you  can! 

DANIEL 
I  don't  deny  it !  I  love  you ! 


!    I 

! 


<».?» 

Ihn*T*«! 


m>  mm*  -~t*r  fanl 


"-•2*. 


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IB 

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:    :••: 

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144  THE  FOOL 

CLARE 
Must  I  go  on  forever  paying  for  one  mistake? 

DANIEL 

Somebody  must  pay  for  our  mistakes.  That  it  was 
wrong  to  make  a  bargain  doesn't  make  it  right  to  break 
the  bargain  when  we  get  tired  of  it. 

GLARE 
I  don't  know  what  to  do. 

DANIEL 

Play  the  game.  Go  back  to  that  poor,  mistaken  man 
lying  across  the  foot  of  your  bed — his  mind  going  and 
his  health  gone.  Bear  your  punishment  and  help  him 
to  bear  his.  That's  your  duty ! 

CLARE 
Duty !    Duty ! !    What  about  happiness  ? 

DANIEL 

There  is  no  other  happiness.  Oh,  don't  you  see,  my 
dear,  that's  been  your  great  mistake?  You're  always 
crying' — you  and  the  world — "I  want  to  be  happy!" 
Happiness  is  service!  Happiness  is  clean-living,  and 
clear-thinking,  and  self -forget  fulness,  and  self-respect! 

CLARE 
And  love? 

DANIEL 

Love  isn't  all.  Not  the  love  you  mean.  You  said: 
"Take  me,  and  we'll  both  forget."  Could  we  have  for 
gotten  promises  unkept,  faith  disappointed,  aspirations 


THE  FOOL  145 

unrealized  ?  No,  my  dear,  love  isn't  all ;  nor  even  hap 
piness.  There's  something  bigger,  and  better,  and  more 
important,  and  that  something  is  ...  DUTY! 

CLARE 
The  world  doesn't  think  that! 

DANIEL 
That's  what's  wrong  with  the  world!     [A  pause.} 

CLARE 
You  want  me  to  go  back? 

DANIEL 

I  want  you  to  be  right ! 

CLARE 

Well,  then  .  .  .  I'm  going  through.  I'm  going  back, 
and  play  the  game  .  .  .  with  you  in  my  heart  always. 
You  don't  forbid  that,  do  you? 

DANIEL 
You  are  in  mine  always. 

CLARE 

And  this  isn't  good-bye.     Sometime  .  .  .  somewhere 
...  in  this  world  ...  or  out  of  it  ...  there  must 
be  a  moment  .   .  .  and  a  place  ...  to  retrieve  mis 
takes.  .  .  .  Good-night. 
[She  starts  up.    He  passes  her,  and  opens  the  door.'] 

DANIEL 

Clare  .  .  .  good-night.  [She  takes  his  hand.  Then 
she  eotits.  The  outer  door  slams.  Then  a  cab  door 


146  THE  FOOL 

.  .  .  faintly.  He  sinks  .  .  .  tired  with  the  effort  of 
renunciation.  Afterward  he  comes  down,  slowly,  and 
drops  cm  the  bench  in  front  of  the  table.  MAEY  MAE- 
GAEET  enters,  singing  "I'm  a  Pilgrim,"  in  a  higher  key, 
to  march  tempo,  keeping  time  with  her  crutches.  She 
is  down  R.  when  she  sees  DANIEL.] 

MAEY  MAEGAEET 
Ain't  you  well,  Mr.  Gilchrist? 

DANIEL 
Just  tired. 

MAEY  MAEGAEET 

Maybe  you  ain't  believin'  hard  enough.  [He  looks 
up.]  It's  'most  time  for  the  meetin'.  [GEUBBY  enters 
with  a  tray.] 

GEUBBY 

I  brung  the  sandwiches. 

[MES.  MULLIGAN  enters.  She  is  the  worse  for  liquor, 
and  glad  of  a  warm  place  to  enjoy  it.  She  slinks 
m  rather  furtively,  and  sits  R.  end  of  table.  She 
is  followed  on  by  ME.  and  MES.  HENCHLEY.  He 
is  a  middle-aged  and  respectable  locksmith.  She 
is  larger  than  he,  and  somewhat  formidable.] 

MAEY  MAEGAEET 
Good  evening,  Mrs.  Mulligan. 

MES.  MULLIGAN 
[With  a  hiccough]  :    It  is  not! 


THE  FOOL  147 

GRUBBY 

[Aside  to  MARY  MARGARET]  :  Bums  .  .  .  like  that 
.  .  .  ain't  got  no  business  here. 

MR.  HENCHLEY 
Good  evening,  Mary  Margaret.     [She  nods.] 

MRS.  HENCHLEY 
Good  evening,  Mr.  Gilchrist. 

DANIEL 
Good  evening,  and  welcome. 

MR.  HENCHLEY 
[To  DANIEL]  :  I  guess  we're  early. 

MRS.  HENCHLEY 

[To  DANIEL]  :  Yes.  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  .  .  . 
about  Mr.  Henchley's  pants. 

DANIEL 
Mr.  Henchley's  what? 

MRS.  HENCHLEY 

Pants.  I  took  out  a  spot  .  .  .  with  gasoline  .  .  . 
and  hung  'em  on  the  fire-escape  that  runs  across  from 
this  house,  and  to-night  they  was  gone,  and  I  think  you 
ought  to  look  into  your  lodgers. 

DANIEL 
I  will. 

[Enter  Miss  LEVINSON.    She  is  a  Jewess — a  garment- 
worker;  thoughtful,  studious,  spectacled.] 


148  THE  FOOL 

Miss  LEVINSON 
Good  evening,  everybody! 

DANIEL 
Good  evening,  Miss  Levinson. 

[The  other s  y  too,  acknowledge  the  greeting.] 

Mis*  LEVINSON 
I've  brought  back  your  book. 

MRS,  HENCHIJBY 
What've  you  been  reading? 

Miss  LEVINSON 
George  Bernard  Shaw. 

MBS.  HJBNCHIJgY 

I  s'poae  you  ain't  read  "The  Sheik"? 
Miss  LEVINSON 

[With  justifiable  pride]:  I've  been  reading  "Caesar 
and  Cleopatra. * 

DANIEL 

[Taking  the  volume]  :  That's  where  we  got  the  quo 
tation  on  the  board.  Fve  jumbled  it  a  bit.  [Heads] 
"And  so,  to  the  end  of  history,  hate  shall  breed  hate, 
murder  shall  breed  murder,  until  the  gods  create  a 
race  that  can  understand." 

Miss  LEVINSON 

That's  it;  isn't  it?    A  race  that  can-— 
[The    door    is    opened    violently,    and    enter    PEARL 
HENNIG.] 


THE  FOOL  149 

PEARL 
Mr.  Gilchrist! 

DANIEL 

Oh,  Pearl;  I  thought  you'd  gone. 

PEARL 

No ;  I've  been  watchin',  an'  I've  got  to  speak  to  you 

.  .  .  quick! 

DANIEL 

In  just  a  few  minutes. 

PEARL 
Now!    Joe's  out  there! 

MRS.  MULLIGAN 
Ah,  shut  up ! 

DANIEL 

Mrs.  Mulligan!  .  .  .  Pearl;  you're  interrupting! 
.  .  .  You  were  saying,  Miss  Levinson? 

Miss  LEVINSON 

We  seem  always  to  have  hated  everything  different 
from  ourselves  ...  in  station,  or  race,  or  religion. 

DANIEL 

Yes.  It's  stupid  .  .  .  and  instinctive.  I've  noticed 
we're  inclined  to  blame  a  man  for  a  pug  nose  ...  if 
ours  is  Roman.  Some  day  we'll  get  over  the  idea  that 
all  who  differ  from  us  are  villains,  and  that  we  should 
hate  each  other  instead  of  trying  to  understand  each 


150  THE  FOOL 

other.  It  was  on  the  battlefields  that  I  came  to  believe 
a  man's  life  might  well  be  given  to  teaching  and  to 
preaching  .  .  .  love!  [A  solid  half -brick  crashes 
through  a  practical  pane  of  glass  in  the  window  L. 
Everybody  screams  and  rises.]  Don't  be  alarmed.  It's 
only  some  hoodlum! 

PEARL, 

Mr.  Gilchrist  .  .  .  it's  Joe!  I  seen  him  in  front! 
That's  why  I  couldn't  get  out!  Somebody  go  get  the 
police!  [A  general  movement.'} 

DANIEL 
No! 

PEARL, 

He's  got  other  men  with  him !  He'll  kill  you !  [The 
•front  door  slams.  Pearl  hurls  herself  against  the  door 
.R.]  Here  he  comes!  Don't  let  him  in!  Somebody 
help  me  hold  this  door!  \In  spite  of  her,  the  door 
slowly  opens] 

DANIEL, 

Pearl!    Stand  aside!     [Enter  GOODKIND.]     It's  only 

Mr.  Goodkind! 

GOODKIND 

Yes.    And  your  neighbors  are  calling. 

MR.  HENCHL.EY 
What's  the  matter? 

MRS.  HENCHLEY 

Together 
Is  there  any  danger? 

MARY  MARGARET 
I'll  get  the  cops. 


THE  FOOL  151 

VOICES  IN  THE  GANG 

[Off  stage]  :    The  fake !    The  damned  pimp !    Drive 

him  out !    Come  on.  .  .  .  Rush  him ! 

[Suddenly  there  is  the  noise  of  the  oncoming.  PEARL 
throws  herself  before  DAN.  MARY  MARGARET  is 
just  behind  him.  The  others  retreat  to  the  plat 
form.  Headed  by  JOE  HENNIG  .  .  .  drwrik  .  .  . 
the  rowdies  enter — JIMMIE  CURRAN,  a  big  dock- 
man,  his  wife  and  half  a  dozen  hangers-on  of  the 
neighborhood.] 

JOE 

[En  route]  Come  on,  fellows !  We'll  show  this  guy ! 
We'll  show —  [He  confronts  them]  By  God !  Caught 
in  the  act!  [To  his  gang]  That's  my  wife! 

DANIEL 
Caught  in  what  act,  Joe? 

JOE 

Why  .  .  .  caught  ...  in  the  act.  .  s  , 

DANIEL 
Tell  him  what  we're  here  for.  .  .  .  You,  Grubby. 

GRUBBY 

[Following  the  example  of  PETEK]  :  I  don'  want  to 
get  in  no  trouble! 

MARY  MARGARET 
I'll  tell  you. 


162  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 

No,  Mary  Margaret ! 

UMANSKI 

[  Who  has  come  through  the  crowd  unobserved;  claps 
his  hand  on  JOE'S  shoulder,  forcing  him  to  his  knees] : 
I  tell  you! 

JOE 
Umanski ! 

UMANSKI 

I  tell  you,  Hennig!  Mr.  Gilchrist  been  friend  to 
everybody!  And  now,  when  he  need  friend,  nobody 
knows  nothing!  Well,  /  know!  I  know  anybody  hurt 
him  gotta  lick  me! 

DANIEL 

No  .  .  .  please  .  .  .  Umanski! 

JOE 
Lickin'  people  ain't  gonna  hide  facks! 

UMANSKI 
[Threatening  with  his  free  fist] :     Shall  I? 

DANIEL 
No  ...  no! 

[UMANSKI  sets  JOE  on  his  feet.    JOE  turns  eloquently 
to  his  gang.] 

9     JOE 

I'll  show  you  the  kind  of  fake  that's  been  foolin' 
you!  He  was  a  preacher,  an'  he  got  kicked  out  of 
his  church! 


THE  FOOL  153 

VOICES  IN  THE  GANG 

Kicked  out !  They  got  onto  you,  did  they?  Caught 
him  with  the  goods ! 

JOE 

He  was  a  spy  for  the  people  that  live  on  labor,  and 
he  came  to  the  mines,  where  we  was  on  strike,  and  ran 
away  with  my  wife! 

VOICES  IN  THE  GANG 
The  dirty  bum !    Maybe  he  didn't  get  much ! 

PEAB& 
It  wasn't  him! 

JOE 

She  says  that  'cause  she's  stuck  on  him! 

PEABL 
I  ain't ! 

JOJE 

Well,  you're  workin'  for  him,  ain't  you? 

PIIABI, 
No! 

DANIEL 

Your  wife's  working  in  a  store  uptown ! 

VOICES  IN  THE  GANG 

We  know  different !  What's  she  doing  here?  That's 
a  good  one!  What're  you  giving  us?  Everybody  in 
the  neighborhood  knows  what  she's  doing! 


154  THE  FOOL 

JOE 
My  wife's  walking  the  streets! 

DANIEL 

That's  a  lie ! 

JOE 

I  heard  from  a  pal  she  picked  up  las'  night  .  .  .  an' 
I  seen  her  comin'  here! 

JIMMIE 
She's  workin'  Sixth  Avenue ! 

MRS.  MULLIGAN 
I  can't  believe  it!    I  can't  believe  it! 

DANIEL 
Pearl!!!  .  .  .  It  M  a  lie? 

PEARL 

Oh,  no!  ...  It's  true.  [A  momentary  silence;  the 
gang  jeers;  she  turns  on  them;  then  a  momentary  de 
fiance.']  Well!  Well,  why  wouldn't  it  be?  I  tried  to 
live  straight  .  .  .  like  you  told  me  ...  an'  I  had  a 
job  ...  but  when  the  other  girls  got  wise.  .  .  .  They 
ain't  no  better  than  I  am!  [She  slowly  gives  way  be 
fore  his  calm,  steady  gaze.~]  Anyway  ...  I  lied.  I 
am  walkin'  the  streets.  I  ain't  no  good.  I  ain't  fit  to 
live.  [She  starts  to  sink  at  his  -feet.  He  raises  her.'] 

DANIEL 
Pearl! 


THE  FOOL  155 

PEARL 
For  Christ's  sake,  ain't  you  done  with  me  now? 

DANIEL 

For  Christ's  sake  ...  no!  [And  lie  takes  her  in 
his  arms.~\ 

JOE 

It's  all  fake!  Ain't  you  fellows  on?  He's  got  every 
rotten  woman  in  the  neighborhood  workin'  for  him. 
Your  wives  ain't  safe!  Your  kids  ain't  safe!  Ask 
Jimmie  Curran!  He  knows  what's  goin'  on  here! 
[Enter  TONY  MALDUCA.]  Ask  Tony  Malduca ! 

A  VOICE 
Here's  Tony ! 

TONY 

Why  you  send  for  me?    What  do  you  want? 

JOE 

We  want  to  know  what  happened  to  your  kid !  Did 
he  bring  her  in  here  .  .  .  an'  keep  her  .  .  .  against 
her  will?  Did  he? 

TONY 

That's  what  he  done! 

VOICES  IN  THE  GANG 

You  remember  Teresa  Malduca?  You  see!  Sure; 
everybody  knows  that!  She  was  here  a  week! 

UMANSKI 

You  damned  wop! 


156  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 

Umanski ! 

VOICES  IN  THE  GANG 

There  ain't  no  woman  safe!  He's  a  damned  fake! 
Beat  him  up !  Kill  him ! 

JOE 

That's  it !  Don't  let  this  big  guy  buffalo  you !  Come 
on !  Drive  him  out !  [To  DANIEL]  I  said  I'd  get  you, 
an'  I  have!  [The  gang  presses  closer,  but  UMANSKI'S 
menacing  bulk  still  holds  them  off.] 

MARY  MARGARET 

[Kneeling  on  the  platform  L.~\ :  Oh,  dear  God, 
please  listen!  [And  she  begins  the  Lord's  Prayer.] 

PEARL 
Get  the  police! 

Miss  LEVINSON 
[Crying  out  of  the  window  L.~\ :    Police!    Police! 

JlMMIE 

[To  UMANSKI]:    Get  out  of  the  way  .  ,  .  you! 

A  VOICE 
Bust  him  in  the  jaw! 

GOODKIND 

[Forcing  his  way  through]  :  Listen  to  me !  No 
violence!  You're  dealing  with  a  lunatic!  Leave  him 
alone!  I've  got  a  doctor  coming  in  a  few  minutes! 
Leave  him  to  me,  and  I  give  you  my  word  I'll  have  this 
place  closed  tonight! 


THE  FOOL  157 

VOICES  IN  THE  GANG 

Yes,  and  he'll  open  another  one!  Sure  he  will!  Of 
course  he  will!  Ah-h-h!  Beat  him  up! 

GOODKIND 
Leave  him  alone !    You  can't  beat  a  crazy  man ! 

PEAEL 

Mr.  Gilchrist  ain't  crazy!  He  ain't  a  man!  Ain't 
you  seen  what  he  just  done  to  me? 

A  WOMAN 
Hire  a  hall!    [AH  laugh.] 

PEABL 

Ain't  you  heard?  I  lied  to  him,  an'  he's  give  me 
another  chance,  an'  I'm  gonna  take  it!  He  ain't  no 
man !  He's  a  Saint !  I  tell  you  he's  like  God! 

A  VOICE 
Where's  his  wings?     [All  laugh.] 

JOE 
Like  God! 

JlMMIE 

That's  blasphemy! 

JOE 

That's  what  it  is,  an'  that's  what  he's  been  tellin' 
'em!  Ain't  it  ...  you  .  .  .  Grubby?  Didn't  he  tell 
you  that,  Jimmie?  Didn't  he  tell  you  he  was  a  Son 
of  God? 


158  THE  FOOL 

VOICES  IN  THE  GANG 
Sure  he  did !    That's  right ! 

JOE 

You  see,  that's  what  he's  told  'em  all !  That's  how 
he  gets  'em!  [To  DANIEL]:  Didn't  you  tell  'em  you 
was  a  Son  of  God?  [There  is  a  momentary  silence, 
broken  only  by  MAEY  MARGARET'S  prayer.] 

DANIEL 
I  am! 

VOICES  IN  THE  GANG 

He  admits  it!  And  I'm  Mary  Magdalene!  Pipe 
Mary  Magdalene !  Son  of  God ! 

DANIEL 

And  so  are  we  all!  \Jeers\  In  you  .  .  .  and  me 
.  .  .  and  all  of  us  ...  deep  down  ...  is  something 
of  Him!  We  may  try  to  hide  it —  \Jeer s\  — or  kill 
it,  but,  in  spite  of  ourselves,  we  are  Divine ! 

VOICES  IN  THE  GANG 

Chuck  it !  Hell !  Cut  the  gab !  He's  crazy !  Come 
on ;  smash  the  place ! 

TONY 

[Facing  DANIEL]  :  If  you're  a  Son  of  God  .  .  . 
save  yourself !  If  you're  .  .  .  what  you  say  .  .  .  give 
us  a  sign! 

JOE 

Ah,  hell !    Come  on ! 

[Two  men  have  climbed  upon  the  table,  and  suddenly 
seize  UMANSKI  from  behind.     Momentarily,  they 


THE  FOOL  159 

bear  him  down,  and  Ms  obstacle  is  removed.  As 
they  drag  him  up  R.,  the  rest  of  the  gang  closes  in 
from  all  sides,  hiding  Daniel,  who  is  forced  up 
stage  C.  The  table  is  overturned.  Above  the 
struggling  mass  are  seen  fists  striking  down,  va 
rious  improvised  weapons  in  action.  A  Dockman, 
who,  at  JOE'S  speech,  has  lifted  the  bench  from 
behind  DANIEL,  to  fell  him  with  it,  and  whose 
weapon  has  been  seized,  from  the  rear,  by  the 
HENCHLEYS,  pommels  madly.  Above  the  pande 
monium  are  distinguished  voices —  PEAEL:  "Help!" 
UMANSKI:  "/  kill  somebody!"  Miss  LEVINSON: 
"Police!"  GOODKIND  :  "Let  him  alone!19  Suddenly 
UMANSKI  throws  off  his  captors,  and,  attacking 
the  mob  from  in  front,  mows  his  way  through, 
tossing  them  to  left  and  right.  When  a  way  is 
cleared,  he  .  .  .  and  we  .  .  .  see  DANIEL,  sense 
less,  lying  in  the  overturned  table,  a  tiny  trickle 
of  blood  runnmg  down  his  face,  his  head  supported 
by  the  table-leg  R.  UMANSKI  gives  a  deep  groan 
of  rage  and  pity.  Hearing  this  and  divining  that 
something  dreadful  has  happened  to  her  hero, 
MARY  MAEGAEET,  who  has  ceased  praying,  and 
raised  herself  to  her  feet  by  the  aid  of  a  neighbor 
ing  chair,  walks  down  to  L.  C.  Before  she  sees 
DANIEL,  Miss  LEVINSON  sees  her,  and  emits  a  pierc 
ing  scream.} 

Miss  LEVINSON 
Mary  Margaret !    Where  are  your  crutches  ? 


160  THE  FOOL 

MARY  MARGARET 

[Looking  at  her  legs  in  tearful  bewilderment]  I 
don't  know!  [She  tries  them;  then,  m  an  hysterical 
cry]  :  I  kin  walk !  I  kin  walk !  [She  looks  for  her 
benefactor  .  .  .  to  show  him.]  Mr.  Gilchrist!  Mr. 
Gilchrist!  [The  crowd  parts,  and  she  sees  the  figure 
lying  against  the  overturned  table.]  Oh,  Mr.  Gil 
christ  !  [She  folds  him  in  her  arms.] 

UMANSKJ 

[Staring  at  MARY  MARGARET,  and  in  a  tone  of 
hushed  awe]  :  You  wanted  a  sign — LOOK !    Down  on 
your   knees — you   murderers !      God's    in   this    room ! 
Down  on  your  knees ! 
[One  by  one  and  two  by  two,  the  frightened  mob  obeys. 

JOE  is  lying  senseless,  but  his  cohorts,  crossing 

themselves,  have  seen  a  miracle.] 

THE    CURTAIN    FALLS 


ACT  IV. 

SCENE:  Gilchrist's  Room — "Upstairs." 
Two  months  later. 

The  room  is  cheerful.  That  is  its  chief  aspect. 
Cheerful,  and  comfortable,  and  homelike.  Such  a  room 
.  .  .  in  the  rear  of  the  fourth  story  .  .  .  might  be  had 
anywhere  for  seven  dollars  a  week,  and  its  contents 
duplicated  for  a  couple  of  hundred,  yet  no  one  should 
be  able  to  look;  in  without  envying  the  occupant.  Be 
fore  the  warm  glow  of  a  fireplace  down  R.  is  a  big, 
brown  leather-covered  armchair.  An  electric  lamp 
stands  on  a  table  stage  left  of  the  chair  and  squarely 
opposite  the  fireplace.  There  are  books  on  the  table, 
too,  and  writmg  things,  and  another  chair  on  its  left. 
Above  the  grate  a  picture  of  Christ  in  the  Temple. 
Conspicuous  in  the  flat,  and  visible  from  all  parts  of 
the  house,  a  big  studio  window.  There  are  cream- 
colored  outside  curtains,  and  brown  denim  inside  cur 
tains,  drawn  now,  but  when  they  are  pulled  aside,  one 
sees  chimney-pots,  and  roof-tops,  and  a  blue  night- 
sky,  with  one  particularly  bright  star.  Up  L.,  a  cur 
tained  arch  into  a  hall  bedroom,  and  down  L.  a  door. 
The  walls,  covered  with  old-gold  grass-cloth,  are  hid 
den,  to  a  height  of  six  feet,  by  roughly-built  bookcases, 
filled  with  much-used  books.  A  sofa,  against  the  wall 

161 


162  THE  FOOL 

L.j  now  holds  numerous  packages.  There  is  a  brown- 
and-tan  grass  rug  on  the  floor,  and  there  may  be  a 
window  seat,  with  brown  cushions,  beneath  the  window. 
The  furniture  is  all  old  .  .  .  probably  second-hand 
.  .  .  but,  as  aforesaid,  the  room  suggests  comfort  and 
peace. 

AT  RISE:  It  is  just  after  eight  o'clock,  Christmas 
Eve,  1920.  DANIEL  is  discovered,  dreaming,  in  the 
armchair  R.,  a  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  his  face  to  the 
fire.  He  has  not  lighted  the  desk  lamp,  and,  except  for 
the  glow  of  the  embers,  the  room  is  in  darkness.  Hang 
ing  over  the  left  arm  of  the  chair,  DANIEL'S  hand  holds 
a  magazine,  but  he  has  not  begun  reading.  After  a 
pause  long  enough  for  the  audience  to  take  in  his  sur 
roundings,  there  is  a  light  tap  at  the  door^and,  without 
waiting  for  a  response,  MARY  MARGARET  enters.  She 
walks  without  crutches — quite  briskly — but  plainly  is 
on  some  secret  business.  Daniel  is  lost  in  the  darkness. 
A  package  in  her  hand,  MARY  MARGARET  crosses 
quickly  to  the  table,  and  turns  on  one  and  then  the 
other  of  the  two  lights  in  the  lamp.  Instantly,  of 
course,  she  sees  the  figure  in  the  chair,  and  conceals 
the  package  beneath  her  apron. 

MARY  MARGARET 

Mr.  Gilchrist?  [He  shows  himself ']  Goodness,  how 
you  scared  me !  I  thought  you  went  out ! 

DANIEL 

No;  I  just  slipped  up  here  to  read  a  while  before  we 
put  our  gifts  on  the  tree.  .  .  .  Where's  Grubby? 


THE  FOOL  163 

MAEY  MAEGAEET 
[Contemptuously] :    Grubby ! 

DANIEL 

He  promised  to  help  with  the  packages. 

MABT  MAEGAEET 

Grubby's  all  swelled  up  with  his  new  taxicab.  Christ 
mas  Eve's  the  big  night  in  his  business,  but  he  says 
don't  worry  .  .  .  he'll  be  here  in  time  for  the  sand 
wiches.  Am  I  intermptin'  your  readin'? 

DANIEL 
Oh,  no!    What  have  you  there? 

MAEY  MAEGAEET 
Where? 

DANIEL 
Under  your  apron. 

MAEY  MAEGAEET 
Oh! 

[She  reveals  the  parcel]  I  was  gonna  surprise  you. 
It's  your  Christmas  present. 

DANIEL 

From  you? 

MAEY  MAEGAEET 

[Handing  it  across  the  table]  :  Yes.  It  ain't  much 
.  .  .  you  know  ...  an'  I  didn't  want  it  on  the  tree 


164  THE  FOOL 

.  .  .  before  everybody.  I  wanted  to  give  it  to  you  my 
self.  Open  it  now.  [He  does  so.  The  package  con 
tains  a  framed  picture.] 

DANIEL 
Mary  Margaret! 

MARY  MARGARET 

The  name's  on  the  back!  [He  turns  it  around,  re 
vealing  to  the  audience  a  cheap  and  highly-colored 
chromo]  See  .  .  .  "Mama's  Treasure." 

DANIEL 
It's  just  what  I  wanted. 

MARY  MARGARET 

[Delighted']:  Is  it  ...  honest?  .  .  .  Let's  put  it 
in  place  of  that  one  over  the  mantel-piece !  That's  an 
awful  pretty  pitcher,  but  mine's  got  colors  in  it! 

DANIEL 
Why  not  in  place  of  the  Venus  who  fell  on  her  nose? 

MARY  MARGARET 

Oh,  yes!  [She  stands  "Mama's  Treasure"  atop  a 
bookcase  L.]  It  looks  good,  don't  it? 

DANIEL 

Beautiful.  I  can't  thank  you  enough.  [Takes  her 
hand]  I  can't  really. 

MARY  MARGARET 

You  can't  thank  me!  You  that's  give  me —  [She 
looks  down  at  her  legs,  and  up  again  with  eyes  -full  of 
tears]  Oh,  Mr.  Gilchrist! 


THE  FOOL  165 

DANIEL 
Now !    Now !    Now !    We  mustn't  cry  on  Christmas ! 

MARY  MAEGAEET 
What're  you  going  to  do  if  you're  happy? 

DANIEL 

Try  laughing.  [She  does]  Anyway,  if  I'm  having 
my  Christmas  now,  you  must  have  yours.  Suppose  you 
rummage  on  the  sofa. 

MAEY  MAEGAEET 

Oh!  [She  runs  to  obey,  and  holds  up  a  parcel  in 
quiringly.] 

DANIEL 

That's  a  book  for  Miss  Levinson. 

MAEY  MAEGAEET 

[Reads  -from  another  bundle] :  Mrs.  Henchley. 
[Takes  up  a  third]  This  one  ain't  marked. 

DANIEL 

Gloves  for  Mack.  I  wanted  to  show  I  appreciated 
his  bringing  back  that  coat. 

MAEY  MAEGAEET 

[Reading  from  two  packages] :  Peter  .  a  * 
Paul  .  .  . 

DANIEL 
For  your  brothers. 


166  THE  FOOL 

MARY  MARGARET 
[  With  a  fourth']  :    And  .  .  .  Mary  Margaret ! 

DANIEL 

Open  it  now. 

MARY  MARGARET 

[Breathless,  she  comes  to  him  C.  Hesitates,  and 
then,  removing  the  wrapping,  reveals  a  child's  set  in 
beaver — muff  and  neckpiece}  :  Oh,  Mr.  Gilchrist ! 
[She  tries  them]  Oh,  Mr.  Gilchrist;  you  oughtn't! 
[Looks  about  for  a  mirror]  They're  beautiful! 
They're  the  most  beautifulest  furs  I  ever  seen!  I've 
wanted  a  set  like  this  always !  You've  made  me  so 
happy !  I  never  was  so  happy  before  in  my  life !  [And 
she  begins  to  cry  again.] 

DANIEL 
Now!     [She  remembers,  and  laughs.] 

MARY  MARGARET 
I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you. 

DANIEL 

Don't  try. 

MARY  MARGARET 

I  never  expected  no  such  a  Christmas !  [Starts  for 
door]  I  gotta  show  mother ! 

DANIEL 
[Turning  R.]  :    Take  down  a  few  of  the  packages ! 


THE  FOOL  167 

MARY  MARGARET 

I'll  be  back  in  a  minute !  [She  opens  the  door,  dis 
closing  GOODKIND.  Seriously  alarmed]  Oh  1  .  .  .  Mr. 
Gilchrist ! 

DANIEL 

[Turning  L.] :    Well  ...  Mr.  Goodkind! 

GOODKIND 
May  I  come  in? 

DANIEL 

Of  course !  [He  enters.  Dan  indicates  chair  L>  of 
table  R.]  Sit  down! 

GOODKIND 

I've  only  a  moment.  Jerry's  waiting  for  me  in  the 
car. 

DANIEL 

How  is  Jerry?  [MARY  MARGARET  arranges  the 
chair.] 

GOODKIND 

[Shakes  his  head  despairingly.  Looks  at  MARY 
MARGARET]  :  I  wish  you  could  perform  a  miracle  on 
him. 

DANIEL 
I  wish  I  could. 

GOODKIND 
[To  MARY  MARGARET]  :    You  seem  to  walk  all  right. 


168  THE  FOOL 

MARY  MARGARET 
Oh,  yes ! 

GOODKIND 

[To  DAN]  :    Had  a  doctor  look  her  over? 

DANIEL 

Three  of  'em. 

GOODKIND 

Any  opinion? 

DANIEL 
Three  opinions. 

MARY  MARGARET 
They  said  Tie  didn't  do  it,  and  you  seen  him ! 

DANIEL, 

[Holds  up  a  warning  finger] :  Ssh!  [Then  to 
GOODKIND]  They  all  say  she  suffered  from  hysterical 
paraplegia.  [GOODKIND  puzzled]  Hysterical  paralysis. 
One  says  she  was  cured  by  shock — you  know ;  the  riot. 
Another  says  it  was  suggestion  .  .  .  believing  .  .  . 
which  is  another  way  of  saying  faith,  isn't  it?  The 
important  thing  is  that  she's  cured ! 

MARY  MARGARET 
God  did  it— God  and  Mr.  Gilchrist! 

DANIEL 

[Hushing  Tier  again] :  Take  down  an  armful  of 
those  packages  .  .  .  like  a  good  girl! 


THE  FOOL  169 

MARY  MARGARET 

I  will.  [She  gathers  them  up,  and,  returning  L.  C., 
looks  apprehensively  at  GOODKIND]  You  call  ...  if 
you  want  me!  [Exits] 

GOODKIND 

[Hesitates.  Doesn't  know  how  to  begin.  Takes 
cigars  from  his  pocket']  :  Smoke? 

DANIEL 

Thanks.  [Showing  his  pipe]  I'll  stick  to  my  old 
friend.  [He  sits.~\ 

GOODKIND 

How  are  things  with  you? 

DANIEL 

[Enthusiastically']  :    Fine ! 

GOODKIND 
Happy? 

DANIEL 

[Radiantly] :    Yes!  .  .  .  And  you? 

GOODKIND 

No.  Everything's  ...  all  wrong.  My  boy's  very 
ill.  Clare's  wonderful  to  him.  I  can't  explain  it — she's 
like  a  different  woman.  And  she  seems  happy.  But 
Jerry's  had  to  give  up  work,  and  there's  more  trouble 
in  Black  River,  and  that's  what  brought  me ! 

DANIEL 
You  don't  want  my  advice? 


170  THE  FOOL 

GOODKIND 

I  want  you  ...  as  general  manager.  These  strikes 
are  such  utter  damned  waste !  We  had  a  working  com 
promise  on  your  agreement,  and  everything  was  all 
right,  but  we  began  figuring  we  could  make  more  money 
.  .  .  and  the  men  walked  out,  and  flooded  the  mines. 
I'd  like  you  to  take  charge,  Daniel. 

DANIEL 
I  can't. 

GOODKIND 

Name  your  own  salary. 

DANIEL 
My  work  is  here. 

GOODKIND 

You  can  have  anything  you  want. 

DANIEL 
I  don't  want  anything. 

GOODKIND 
You  want  to  see  the  men  get  their  rights. 

DANIEL 
They'll  get  'em.    Nothing  can  stop  that. 

GOODKIND 

You're  not  going  to  turn  down  fifty  thousand  dollars 
a  year? 

DANIEL 

What  can  I  buy  with  it  that  I  haven't  got  ? 


THE  FOOL  171 

GOODKIND 

What  can  you  buy  with  fifty 

DANIEL 

What  have  you  bought? 

GOODKIND 
I've  got  one  of  the  finest  houses  in  New  York! 

DANIEL 
Is  it  any  more  comfortable  than  this? 

GOODKIND 
This  one  little  room! 

DANIEL 

How  many  rooms  do  you  live  in  at  the  same  time? 

GOODKIND 
I've  got  half  a  dozen  cars ! 

DANIEL 
I've  two  legs,  and  I  walk,  and  keep  well. 

GOODKIND 
I've  twenty  servants 

DANIEL 
Don't  tell  me  you  enjoy  that! 

GOODKIND 
And  the  respect  of  people  about  me 


1T2  THE  FOOL 

DANIEL 
So  have  I! 

GOODKIND 

And,  what's  most  important  of  all,  I'm  a  success ! 

DANIEL 
Are  you? 

GOODKIND 
Huh? 

DANIEL 

Are  you?  What  is  success?  Money?  Yes;  that's 
what  our  civilization  tells  us.  Money!  But  where  has 
that  brought  us?  Only  to  the  elevation  of  the  unfit 
.  .  .  the  merely  shrewd  and  predatory.  All  around  us 
we  see  men  of  wealth  who  have  nothing  else  .  .  .  neither 
health  nor  happiness  nor  love  nor  respect.  Men  who 
can  get  no  joy  out  of  books,  or  pictures,  or  music,  or 
even  themselves.  Tired,  worried  men  who  are  afraid 
to  quit  because  they  have  no  resource  except  to  make 
money — money  with  which  to  buy  vulgar  excitement 
for  their  own  debased  souls.  Why,  Mr.  Goodkind,  I 
have  an  income  that  you  wouldn't  suggest  to  your 
bookkeeper,  but  I  have  peace,  and  health,  and  friends, 
and  time  to  read,  and  think,  and  dream,  and  help. 
Which  of  us  is  the  rich  man? 

GOODKIND 

But  if  everybody  lived  your  way,  what  would  become 
of  the  world's  work? 


THE  FOOL  173 

DANIEL 

Living  that  way  is  my  contribution  to  the  world's 
work.  Another  man's  might  be  selling  shoes,  or  writ 
ing  plays,  or  digging  ditches.  Doing  his  job  doesn't 
prevent  any  man  from  doing  his  bit.  "From  every  man 
according  to  his  ability,  to  every  man  according  to  his 
needs."  And  every  man  who  gives  his  best  must  find 
his  happiness. 

GOODBJND 

I'm  afraid  there  wouldn't  be  much  progress  .  •«  . 
living  your  way. 

DANIEL 

That's  the  second  time  you've  spoken  of  my  way.  It 
isn't  my  way.  It's  the  sum  total  of  all  that  has  been 
learned  and  taught.  You,  and  Jerry,  and  the  others 
have  called  me  eccentric,  and  a  fool,  because  I'm  trying 
to  walk  a  path  trod  hard  by  countless  feet.  Was 
Christ  eccentric?  Was  Confucius  a  fool?  And  how 
about  Buddha  and  Mohammed?  What  of  St.  Bernard, 
and  St.  Teresa,  and  St.  Francis  of  Assisi — of  Plato, 
and  Zeno,  and  Lincoln,  and  Emerson,  and  Florence 
Nightingale,  and  Father  Damien,  and  Octavia  Hill, 
and  all  the  saints  and  scientists,  and  poets  and  philoso 
phers,  who  have  lived  and  died  in  complete  forgetfulness 
of  self?  Were  they  fools,  or  were  they  wise  men  and 
women  who  had  found  the  way  to  peace  and  happiness  ? 
Were  they  failures,  or  were  they  the  great  successes  of 
all  Time  and  all  Eternity? 


174  THE  FOOL 

GOODKIND 

God  knows! 

[JERRY  enters  .  .  .  a  dying  man.  He  drags  his  legs 
with  difficulty,  and  his  speech  is  thick,  but  he  is 
still  cynical  and  defiant. ] 

JERRY 

Well,  you've  been  the  devil  of  a  time !  I  came  up  to 
see  what  was  keeping  you ! 

GOODKIND 
[Rising]  :    Mr.  Gilchrist. 

JERRY 
Hello,  Gilchrist ! 

DANIEL 

[Crossmg  to  C.]  :    How  are  you,  Jerry? 

JERRY 

Not  so  damned  well!  But  I'll  be  all  right  in  the 
Spring!  Clare's  looking  after  me.  Clare's  a  good 
sport.  What  I  need  now's  a  run  down  to  Palm  Beach ! 
[Looks  around]  So  you're  reduced  to  this,  are  you? 

DANIEL 

Yes. 

JERRY 
Going  to  take  my  job? 

DANIEL 
No. 

JERRY 
Why  not? 


THE  FOOL  175 

DANIEL 

Your  father  understands. 

JEEEY 

Yes  .  .  .  so  do  I !  Didn't  I  always  say  you  were  a 
nut?  That's  it;  a  nut!  [He  laughs  with  a  laugh  that 
begins  to  get  the  better  of  him.] 

GOODZIND 

[Crossing  rapidly  to  the  door]  :    Come,  Jerry ! 
[A  light  rap;  GOODZIND  opens.     Enter  MAEY  MAE- 
GAEET.    She  glances  at  him  and  crosses  to  upper 
L.  C.     JEEEY  looks  at  her,  and  turns  back  to 
DAN.] 

JEEEY 
Who's  the  girl? 

DANIEL 

Your  father's  waiting. 

JEEEY 

A'  right!  .  .  .  [Crosses  L.]  Some  failure  you've 
made  out  of  life!  [Turns  back  and  leers  at  MAEY 
MAEGAEET.  In  the  doorway,  looks  at  DAN.]  Wheels 
.  .  .  by  God!  Wheels!  [He  laughs,  and  exits.] 

GOODKIND 

[Goes  to  DAN  and  takes  his  hand] :  I  wonder  if 
you're  the  failure,  after  all.  [Returns  to  the  door.] 
Good-night !  [He  exits.] 

[DAN  takes  his  pipe  from  his  pocket  and  puts  it  in  his 
mouth.     Some  chimes,  in  the  distance,  begin  the 


176  THE  FOOL 

anthem  "Hark  the  Herald  Angels  Sing."  DANIEL 
goes  up9  draws  back  the  curtains,  and  throws  open 
the  window.  MARY  MARGARET,  feeling  the  fresh 
air,  draws  her  furs  about  her,  happily.  She  turns 
up.  DANIEL  is  standing  with  his  left  arm  akimbo. 
MARY  MARGARET  slips  her  head  through  it,  and 
nestles  to  him.  They  .  .  .  and  we  .  .  .  see  the 
chimney  pots,  and  the  blue  night  sky,  and  one 
"bright  star.] 

MARY  MARGARET 
Mr.  Gilchrist !    Is  that  the  Star  of  Bethlehem? 

DANIEL 
I  wonder.     [The  chimes  swell  out,  and 

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The  fool. 


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